#and I’m not in the mood to mentally break down this whole word vomit and theories

[iceyrukia]

Just gonna leave this long post of tras discussing their theories of rf/gc feminists here for safekeeping.

[raineydays411]

My Father's daughter pt 3

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary: Back at the Tower, Y/n has a talk with Pepper.

a/n: ohhh another part finished!! some new characters will be revealed next part and i’m so great full for @social-media-imagines-by-me fir helping me create them💕💕

You were furious.

You stormed into your room and slammed the door, finding satisfaction in the loud bang it produced. You then ripped through your drawers and closet, pulling on some work out clothes and some gloves. You then marched out of the room, slamming the door again, startling Sam and Bucky who happened to be passing by.

"Geez kid, slam it a little harder I don't think it fell off the hinges yet." Sam jokes, but you were in no joking mood so you swirled around with fire in your eyes.

"You okay doll?" Bucky softly asks, pushing a frightened Sam to the side. You sigh, knowing it's not fair to take out your anger on them.

"Sorry Sam, it's just...my biological mom is here and wants me to move in with her."

"Oh..." Bucky says, not good with things like this, " Do you want me to like...kill her or..."

"NO" You laugh, " It's just I haven't seen her in nine years and she has the audacity to come up here like it's nothing?!"

Your anger returns, " She thinks that just because she pushed me out of her vagina"

The two men cringe at the words

"That she can just claim me? That's not how it works!" You shout, " And, she brought her fucking husband. The man she left us for! Who does that?!"

Bucky looks at Sam, mentally asking him what they should do. Sam just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

"Come on kid, it looks like you wanna punch something."

and with that he lead you to the training room where Steve was training with Peter.

"Come on queens, you gotta stay on your feet" Steve k=jokes as he, again, trips Peter.

"Mr. Rogers, do you think we should take a break?" Peter pants.

You stride pass them, not bothering to say hi. They look at Sam and Bucky for an explanation and just get a shake of the head.

"Hey Y/n that's my punching" Steve started to say when he saw you throw a hard punch to the bag, "Nevermind..."

You ignore the group behind you, opting to pummel the poor punching bag in front of you.

Your mind flashes back to your mother and her words.

"A girl needs her mother"

*punch*

"Oh petal I wanted to call"

*punch* *punch*

"Come to Gotham. Meet your siblings!"

*BANG*

You look down to see the punching bag flew off the hook and is spilling sand on the floor. You were confused, as you knew you weren't strong enough to do that, not even when you were angry.

"Wow, I guess Cap didn't secure that hook again."

You jump, not expecting someone to be there, as you heard Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Peter leave. You turn to see Pepper there looking at the bag in surprise. You sigh, stepping away from the mess and taking off your gloves. You make your way to the bench and take a swig of water.

"Did you need something Pep?" You ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, i was just wondering if my kid was okay. But given the fact that you punched that bag like it would restore your honor.."

You knew you shouldn't have showed her Avatar.

"I'm assuming your not." She finishes.

You give her a half smile, looking down at your hands.

"Y/n" She says, " Talk to me."

You finally speak, "Why now?"

Pepper frowns, understanding that small phrase, ' I don't know."

"She's not my mother." You state, " She...she might have been once but now?"

Pepper nods," I love you."

You smile, the words reassuring you, " I love you too Pep."

"Come on, your messing up your manicure." She says with a smile, standing and extending a hand towards you. You feel your demnor soften and your mood lighten. Pepper always managed to make you feel better.

"Yeah okay..thanks." You say, taking her hand and letting her pull you from the bench, " Are you hungry? Cause I am>"

"Y/n we just ate!"

"Like an hour ago"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days went by and you hadn't heard a peep from Christine. It was like she went off to lick her wounds and just decided not to reach out again.

Which didn't bother you one bit.

But apparently the universe wanted to fuck with you because when you came home from a day out with Peter, there was your mother, Bruce Wayne, and all six million of her fucking kids sitting on the couch.

"What the fuck?" You say causing the attention to turn to you.

"Language" Peter says, You smile softly at him before then turning to glare at Tony.

"Don't look at me, it was your moth-uh Peppers idea." Tony stumbled, looking rather uncomfortable sharing a drink with the man that his...wife? girlfriend?... whatever she was left him for.

"Pep what?" You asking, softening your glare because you'd be damned if you disrespected her.

"I just think it'd be best if we clear the air and get everything out on the table." Pepper said in that tone she uses when she's dealing with difficult people or the press. You called it her CEO tone.

"Now, go take your bags upstairs and wash up. And I'll pretend that you aren't an hour late"

"It was Peter's idea..." You mumbled and walking to the stairs that lead to the bed rooms.

"It was not!" Peter shouts following you to the rooms to help with the bags.

Christine watched as her daughter walked out of the room, playfully arguing with Peter. It was as if she were a whole different person, carefree and playful. Totally different from when she was glaring and stiff when talking to her. It broke her heart hearing Tony refer to Pepper as her Mother rather than Christine. But what did she expect?

Damian scoffed catching her attention, "Mother I do not see why you've dragged us here, that girl didn't even acknowledge us."

"Damian, enough" Bruce said, not looking away from his awkward conversation with Tony.

"Gee if only I could do that with our kids." Tony mutters into his drink.

"Does Y/n argue often?" Bruce asks trying to engage in conversation.

Tony laughs before fondly speaking, " Sort of. She isn't the type to back down when she thinks something is right. There was this one time I caught her arguing with one of my business partners about his "condescending tone and misogynistic attitude"."

""And did she apologize after?"

"Hell no. She glared at me and told me apologizing just for his ego would be demeaning her experiences as a woman. Although to be fair he was an asshole."

Bruce chuckles, " She sounds like a well rounded young woman. How old was she then?"

"Ah about 10, it was funny seeing this little girl argue in a Justin Bieber shirt argue about the patriarchy with a full grown man."

Bruce and Tony shared a laugh, picturing the scene.

"You must be very proud of her." Bruce mentions after they quieted down. Tony let a small smile escape.

" I am. She's had a rough life, and I..." Tony trails off, " She means everything to me. Without her...I don't think I'd be the same person I am today."

And with that, Tony downed his drink and stood, " Want another?"

Bruce smiled and accepted, watching Tony leave. He can tell that the man was close to his daughter. A bond that formed due to a loss, they both grew from it and grew closer. He understood, thinking about his own children.

Pepper and Christine were having a somewhat similar conversation, although it was a little more tense.

"So...Pepper-"

"Virginia." Pepper said, cutting her off.

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Virginia. Pepper is a nickname my family calls me."

"Oh. Okay, Virginia, how long have you known Y/n and Tony?"

"Oh about nine or so years. I was promoted to assistant when I saw how much of a mess Tony was." Pepper said casually.

Dick and Jason tensed, overhearing the tense conversation between the two mothers. But before Dick could interrupt Jason sat him back down.

"I wanna see what happens."

Christine continued, " And when did you become a..more permanent around the house?"

"When I saw that Y/n the one taking care of Tony." Pepper said in a serious tone, "She was the one making sure he didn't choke on his vomit and eating cereal as his flings walked out the room. Then he got kidnapped...and y/n was alone. So I made sure she’d never be alone again.”

Christine heart sank. She knew about the whole kidnapping thing. Why she didn't step in, she doesn't know. It's just another thing she regrets to this day.

Before Pepper could continue, she heard two sets of footsteps and voices

"All I'm saying is, if he looks at me funny, I'm fighting him and that's that."

"Yeah maybe not the best impression on..." Peter cuts off when they reach the living room. Eyes again on the two of you.

"Let's get this over with." You muttered, saying bye to Peter and making way over to the couch to sit next to Pepper.

"Y/n!" Christine says happily, " I'm glad you're here. We brought you something!"

She pulls out a box and she carefully hands it over to you.

You look at it suspiciously before getting a nudge from Pepper.

"Thank you." You grit out. Earning a glare from Damian and Cassandra.

You open the box to see...cupcakes.

"They're the peanut butter strawberry cupcakes you used to like. Remember? I used to bring them when I came to see you." Christine says, trying to bring up good memories.

You frown and close the box, " I'm allergic to strawberries."

Lie.

Pepper casts a glance towards you, "They look lovely, let me take them into the kitchen, I'll check on dinner."

And with that she takes the box and leaves into the kitchen. Leaving you and Tony alone.

"So...Stark" Damian started fixing his gaze on you.

"Yes, Wayne?" You said, matching his energy.

"What exactly is it you want from my mother?" He asks, earning a groan from his older brothers.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if she left me alone." You say with a straight face.

Christine frowns but before she says something Damian speaks up again.

"Tt, all this drama for the likes of you? It's honestly disappointing" He drawls, trying to get under your skin.

"Damian!" Christine scolded.

"Well, I apologize for not meeting your standards. I'd try harder if I cared what a toddler thought of me."

Jason let out a surprised chuckle while the rest of the family looked on in shock. Tony just rolled his eyes.

"I do not understand why Mother insists on rekindling her relationship with you. You obviously weren't worth the effort the first time around." He spits, causing the rest of the family to gasp.

You however, just laugh, " When you figure it out, let me know. It's probably the same reason she puts up with you."

Damian glares, about to start in again when Jason cuts him off " Shut up Demon. She got you man."

"Tt"

"I'm Jason, and anyone who can out that brat in check is good in my book." He says sending you a smirk.

You smile back, " I'm friends with Loki and Wade Wilson, I'm hardly affected by anything anymore." Your dad rolls his eyes again, he’s not exactly enthusiastic about your choice in friends.

You like this one. Probably the one you're gonna be able to stand in this family.

"Don't hog her Jason!" Dick shouts pushing him away before turning to smile at you, " Hi! I'm-"

"Dick Grayson. I know, you spilled your champagne on my dress a few years ago at a New Years gala." You say, still a little bitter about it.

"Oh. heh, right, sorry about that. Again." He says sheepishly.

You turn to Cassandra, " You're Cassandra. You and your friend cornered me in the bathroom."

Cassandra scowls and looks away.

Then you turned to Tim, " And you need to learn how to secure your fire walls better."

Tim looked at you confused, "Um excuse me?"

You smirked, " Just a suggestion. I assume you don't want people to know about your...bats in the attic?"

The whole family froze.

You knew? There was no way.

"Kid, are you hacking again?" Tony said exasperatedly, " You promised you'd stop after the last time."

"Hey it's not my fault Shuri didn't think about changing her password." You say defensively, “ and it’s not like you were complaining when you had me hack into SHEILDS databases”

“What was that!?” Pepper shouts from the kitchen.

“Heheh, nothing dear.” Tony shouts back then in a hushed voice scolds you, “ I gave you fifty bucks to keep that a secret.”

“I didn’t say what you had me retrieve.” You said smugly leaning back in your chair.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel.

On one hand, this teen that objectively hates his family, knows their biggest secret. She can singlehandedly destroy their family and expose them. And she has the means to.

But on the other, she’s a perfect fit for their family. She gets along with Jason, doesn’t let Damian get under her skin, and from the looks of it can definitely take care of herself. Only thing is, again, she hates his wife and by association, his family.

“I’m sorry, hacking? You know that’s illegal right?” Tim asks, still in shock that you got past his security systems.

You turn to him and in a bored tone replied , “Yeah? and?”

Tim stuttered for a bit before going quiet with a blush. It was adorable really.

You had to hold back a laugh, it was fun getting this stuffy family all riled up. Especially when you can see the disapproval in Christines face.

“Tony, you let our daughter participate in illegal activities??” Christine asks with a raised brow.

The table goes silent at the tone of her voice. Knowing that when she uses it someone is really in trouble.

But you roll your eyes because how are you supposed to know what that tone means?

“I let my daughter express herself in a ...healthy way. She knows her limits.” Tony replies cooly, taking a drink and looking back into the kitchen wondering where Pepper went.

”Obviously not. Tony she has no regard for the laws at all! You think i didn’t see the headlines last year?!”

Ah yes, last year you had a slight scandal where you may have punched a pap for trying to get a picture up your skirt but who wouldn’t?!

“ And you let her hang around criminals and terrorists?!”

You scoff, “ Oh please everyone in the Avengers was a criminal or terrorist at least once.”

“Not helping kid.” Tony says, “Christine, you and your family have no right to come into my home and judge my family. I’ve been civil. Hell maybe a little too much. Mainly because if I wasn’t, my wife—err Fiancée, would kill me.”

You snicker, earning a few glares.

“Look the point is, don’t tell me how to raise my daughter. Especially because I was doing it all alone.” Tony finishes with a sigh.

The table goes silent. You were getting tired of all the tense silences today.

“ Look.” You turn to Christine, “ I get that you probably feel guilty or something because you ditched me. And I appreciate that or whatever.”

You were not good at this.

“ But I don’t wanna live with you.”

Christine looks down sadly, “ Y/n I just...I just want to get to know you again. You’re my baby.”

Before you could answer you heard a crash come from the kitchen and smoke fill the rooms.

“ Pepper?!” You cough, “ Dad what’s happening?!”

“ I don’t know. Stay here” He says summoning his suit.

“FRIDAY?!” You shout, but not hearing the AI.

The Wayne’s all looked at each other in panic. They didn’t bring their suits, thinking it was just a dinner.

You turn to them and shout “ Come with me, and stay low!”

You start to lead them to the stair case, knowing that the rooms were relatively safe.

“Come on!” you yell when they don’t follow you.

Christine stands from her seat and makes to follow you before being stopped by Damian.

“Mother we cannot..”

“Damian, I’ve had about enough of you. Let’s go.” She says sternly and follows you. The rest of the family following behind as Bruce nudges Damian.

“ Come on son.”

“Father we don’t know where she’s leading us.” Damian says stubbornly.

“There’s nothing we can do right now.” he coughs.

The sounds of punching and the blasts come from the kitchen.

“Let’s go.”

They finally join the rest of the family. You have them crouched in the hallway.

“ This is James’ room. Dad had it modified just incase he was ever triggered into the Winter Solider again. No ones getting through this door when it’s locked.”

You usher them in.

“Come on Y/n” Christine says reaching a hand out to you.

You smirk, “ What? and miss all the action?”

You close the door and lock it before leaving. Laughing at their surprised faces.

The room is silent.

“ She’s awesome!” Jason says with a laugh.

[bibbykins]

Insufferable

A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!

Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one

Word count: 3.6k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.

Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too

There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.

You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.

Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.

You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.

Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.

Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.

Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.

“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”

“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?

You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”

“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.

“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.

“No, but I know how you look naked-”

“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.

“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.

“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.

“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”

“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.

You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-

You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.

Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-

“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.

Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?

You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.

You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.

The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.

“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.

He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.

You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.

“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”

“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.

“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.

You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.

Old habits die hard.

Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.

Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.

The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.

Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.

You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.

“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.

You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?

Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.

You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.

He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.

I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.

I’m so tired.

-Mom

Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.

“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.

“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”

He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.

No thanks to him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.

“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”

“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.

“Wh-”

He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.

However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.

"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.

You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”

Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.

He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.

His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.

He froze.

Fuck, what food do you like?

He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.

Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.

Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.

He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.

Tip Jar

[navegandoaciegas]

Sunshine Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: fluff, soft!Bucky, mentions of injury (no graphic descriptions), 3.6k words

Summary: You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish he wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

Two years ago you were supposed to enjoy a solo road trip after years of Avenging, but Bucky invited himself along. Now you’re forced back to New York, and your boyfriend is ready to surprise you once again.

A/N: Bucky’s POV. Sequel to I love my baby to death, but I suppose you could read it on its own. As always forgive any mistakes, English is my third language.

Had to repost this cause it didn’t show up in the tags, hopefully this time it will

“I swear Buck, if I see one more damn corn plant I’m losing it. I am this close” you say pinching your thumb and pointer finger real close “to a mental breakdown. I’m never eating corn again, mark my words. No corn flakes, no corn on the cobble, no nothing. I’m done.”

“We’re in Iowa, in the middle of the corn belt, I don’t know what you were expecting.” he replies, slightly amused by your little outburst and sour mood.

“Well, clearly not ending up on the set of Children of the corn.” you groan, getting back to sulking in the passenger’s seat, seething at the fields that are only a scapegoat to the real problem.

You’d been merrily skiing in Montana when his skis got somehow tangled with yours and he tumbled down on you, dragging you down the slope. Hadn’t you injured yourself, rolling in the snow like it only ever happens in cartoons would have been pretty comical.

“What?” you screech, almost jumping off the stretcher and grimacing in pain when your left foot hits the metal poles at the side. “No. It’s just pain, I’m sure it will go away, right? I mean I was an Avenger, I’ve suffered worse than a fall.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but knee surgery will be necessary, the MRI here shows you’ve torn your ACL and from the looks of it, your left knee was already damaged badly, numerous times at that, probably a result of your time on the field.”

“I can’t, I can’t just get surgery, we’re miles away from home and I-”

You’re almost sobbing and Bucky feels like shit because he’s the reason for all this and all he can do now is pat your back reassuringly.

“Given the extent of the damage, I’m afraid there’s no other option.”

“How long is the recovery time?” he asks, voice unsure.

“Well, it’s my knowledge she’s not an enhanced individual, so like any average human it will take anywhere from 6 to 9 months to recover fully. In the meantime, no more hikes or sports.”

Bucky inhales a sharp breath. Six to nine months. No more hikes. Surely you’ll have to go back to New York.

God, you are so going to break up with him.

Turns out you didn’t dump him in Montana, you didn’t abandon him in one of those auto stops along Interstate 90 in South Dakota, and you don’t seem to want to break up with him amidst the green fields of Iowa, but still, he knows he will drive through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It almost seems like a cruel twist of fate, driving the same route you did as friends two years ago, along Interstate 80 headed East instead of West, only this time he’s not hoping to be more than the annoying old man who invited himself on your trip; he’s your boyfriend now, but maybe not for long.

“You know, you really are dramatic.” you say in a teasing tone, “I’m not going to break up with you, stop thinking about that, it was an accident, ‘s not like you beat me.”

“I know, I’m just sorry because you’re in pain and it’s my fault and now we have to get back home but I know you wanted to stay more and I did too and if I didn’t-” he’s rambling, and your place your hand on his thigh and squeeze reassuringly, offering him one of those sweet smiles he dies for.

“Buck, it’s okay” you interrupt his word vomit “like I said a million times before, it was an accident, it’s going to be fine I promise. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise with my mood, I swear I’m just pissed at all this damn corn. We’re never going to a maze again, by the way.” That gets a laugh out of him, and he loves you even more because you’re always there to lift his spirits. “I’m dreading these next months, the surgery, physiotherapy and all, but I know you’re there for me, yes?”

He nods, teary eyed, and you continue, “And I can’t lie, it’s been a while, I’m kind of excited to see everyone again, I mean except for Sam of course,” you say, as if he didn’t “live rent free in your head”, like Sam himself put it, “Jesus that man, how many of our trips has he invited himself on? I’ve lost count. ‘Member when we found him waiting for us in Phoenix? Fuckin’ weirdo.”

You both chuckle at the memory of Sam in your motel room, waiting on your bed with crossed arms like a disappointed parent, pissed off because you hadn’t called in a week and he was worried sick that something may have happened to you, a deadly sniper, and him, the Winter fuckin’ Soldier. Truth is, Bucky was so excited about your new relationship that he rarely let you leave the bed when you were in your room, and when you did you were in no condition to Facetime anyone, with your smudged mascara and swollen lips.

“I’ve heard Clint will come visit us with Laura and the kids. Nathaniel must be so big now.” you add, your eyes glazed over as you think of the little boy who was named after your Natasha.

“God, Morgan is probably all grown up.” he muses, a tinge of sadness in his voice. You squeeze his thigh again. “And the spider kid too, he’s a grown man now.”

“That he is.” you chuckle, “But to me he’ll always be the boy in the red spanx who knocked us on our asses in Berlin.”

He smiles and shakes his head at the memory, and you both fall in a comfortable silence. Now that he’s not consumed by fear anymore, Bucky kind of agrees with you that all this green is, in fact, nauseating.

“You know what, no more popcorn either.”

“Deal.”

-

A year and something ago

Arizona

“Can you believe there’s a city in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences? We should totally go and visit just for the hell of it, sounds like the type of place Steve Rogers should have been born into.” you state with all the seriousness in the world, and he snorts because after all this time you still haven’t found it in yourself to stop mocking Steve’s righteousness.

You’re walking ahead of him and he’s so distracted by your tiny denim shorts that he, the master of stealth, almost trips over a boulder. You’re always pretty but tonight, illuminated by the orange sky of Arizona, you look like a dream. And you’re so happy, snapping photos at everything you see, that even if Bucky hates the desert and the heat makes him uncomfortable, he won’t tell you, because the look on your face makes it all worth it.

“Baby, look at this big boy here, he’s like 20 feet tall. Oh my god, he’s so cute and beefy, just like you.” you gush at one of the giant cactuses of Saguaro National Park.

He raises his eyebrows skeptically.

All he sees are green spiky motherfuckers that he’s accidentally hurt himself with more times that he’d like to admit in all those damn ‘hikes’ you like so much, but to you cactuses are the most beautiful sight in the word. He genuinely does not see the appeal, but he understands now how you feel when he talks about all his ‘nerd shit’, as you call it.

“I’m cuter.” he says frowning.

“Of course you are.”

For some reason you don’t sound convincing at all.

-

It’s only spring but here in Tucson the temperature is 85 degrees today and he’s sweating buckets underneath the long sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing to conceal his vibranium arm. He’s long past the time when he was forced to hide from authorities or the general public’s judgement, but still he doesn’t want to be recognized and attract attention. He doesn’t do well with crowds, and he doesn’t understand how you can be so calm and collected when people stare at you and ask for photographs while you’re minding your own business.

As soon as you get back to the motel you’re staying at he takes off his soaked shirt, not caring that the air conditioning is probably going to end his old ass.

“What the hell happened to you?” you ask, scowling as you analyze the skin around his prosthetic.

He shrugs. “It happens sometimes.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me James.”

You only call him that when he’s in big trouble. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose: why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the damn time? “It’s nothing sweetheart, just sometimes the skin becomes flared when it’s too hot.”

“Nothing?” you shrill, throwing your hands around animatedly, “Nothing? Bucky your whole shoulder is super red and irritated, don’t act like it’s normal. We’ve been in the sun for hours, for days really, why didn’t you tell me anything? I would have driven us back here immediately. Does it hurt?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to ruin your fun, you liked it so much there. And no, it only itches a little.”

Your eyes soften and you move to cup his face in your hands, looking at him with so much love that he feels himself melt away into a puddle, “Baby you don’t need to do that, you know I care more about you than anything else.”

“Even more than the cactuses?”

“Well, now you’re asking too much of me.”

He snorts and playfully hits your arm, then he falls back on the bed and drags you down with him. You stay cuddled like that for a while before you pull back to look into his eyes.

“I appreciate you doing this for me Buck, but you don’t ever need to sacrifice your own comfort for me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry. But you looked so happy.”

“Don’t be, and I’m always happy with you, I promise.”

“I’m always happy too.”

“We’re such saps. Gross. Anyways, guess where we’re going next?” you ask him cheerfully, scratching his scalp the way that makes him purr like a cat.

“The plan was New Mexico, Texas and Louisiana, right?” he frowns. You’d made plans together ages ago and you were so excited about visiting Texas of all places for God knows what reason. He’s predicted already that he won’t stand the suffocating, humid heat of that whole area. At least Arizona was dry as hell.

You on the other hand, everyday he’s become more aware of how much of a lizard you are, seeking the sun and walking around in the scorching heat not even breaking a sweat.

“Guess again baby boy, we’re going straight to Oregon. I mean, it's not Alaska but it’s not as hot as the desert here, right?

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to overheat?” you state like it’s obvious, rolling your eyes, “We’ll do New Mexico and the rest next fall, and now Oregon and Washington because it’s a little cooler there. So what do you say?” You ask with a hopeful look in your eyes.

“Princess I appreciate you doing this for me, but I promise I’ll be fine. You don’t have to change plans for me, this is your road trip.”

“No you won’t Buck, you’re not doing good and I don’t ever want to see you suffer, you understand? By the time we get to Texas it will be summer and you won’t stand it, it’s better if we visit when it’s colder.”

He smiles softly. He knows he’d do the same for you. “Then Oregon it is.”

You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom to shower, “Oh, and baby?” you call out,  peeking your head from behind the door, “This is your road trip too, never forget that.”

-

Oregon

“Why does Thor get to have places named after him and we don’t? We were Avengers too.”

“But are we norse gods?”

“I mean, not yet, but I definitely deserve some nature’s wonder, or at least a star, to be named after me.”

“I’ll call WMO and get them to name a hurricane after you, princess. It seems more fitting.”

“Asshole.”

You’d been camping somewhere in Oregon’s wilderness when he came up with the idea of visiting all of the State’s so called seven wonders, starting from Thor’s Well on the Coast and ending in Mount Hood near Portland. You took a thousand photos of each attraction and sent a video of the water seemingly draining inside the famous well to the God himself, who enthusiastically expressed his appreciation.

Bucky’s cherished every minute of it, from the hot springs of Crater Lake to the chillier temperatures at night that force you to snuggle closer to him to warm up.

You’re in Portland now, and you’re thoroughly enjoying it, but what’s new about that? You’re always so full of life, so genuinely excited about everything the world has to offer that he’d be worried if you weren’t having the time of your life as you usually are.

He likes the city too, which is saying a lot.

“Blueberries are the superior berry and that’s the hill I’m willing to die on.”

You’ve been eating your way through Portland for weeks, and you’ve been discussing pies for a solid thirty minutes now. It’s raining outside and you’re cooped up in a small pie shop, eating more than an average human can and receiving weird looks from the waitress as you tell her to ‘keep ‘em coming’.

“I’m sorry but you’re wrong princess,” he states with a stuffed mouth just for the sake of aggravating you to no end, “blackberries are just so much better.”

It works as you grimace in disgust, both at his statement and his manners.

He’s found out you are weirdly opinionated when it comes to pies: pecan pies are an abomination, pumpkin doesn’t belong in dessert, lemon pie and key lime pie are only acceptable if someone’s grandma is kindly offering them to you, rhubarb pie without strawberries is a threat to mankind and cherry and blueberry pies are the absolute best. Apple pie is too bland to even take the time to discuss it, although the taste is likeable enough.

He on the other hand likes anything pie and anything sweet. And anything that gets a rise out of you.

“Please Buck, this isn’t even a blackberry pie, it’s some sort of inbred experiment that turned out kinda right.”

He shushes you, barely holding back a laugh when he sees the waiter side eyeing you as you disrespect one of Oregon’s most famous dishes, “First of all, it’s called marionberry and it’s a type of blackberry. And second, keep it down unless you want us to be kicked out, you’re offending a whole state.”

“Sorry.” you shrug, “But blueberry tartness level is where I draw the line, anything more than that is unacceptable.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re still a child and haven’t developed adult taste buds yet baby.” He does love his senior citizen card a bit too much.

This earns him a kick under the table and a scowl. “Stop it, grandpa.” you groan.

He grins and digs in your slice of marionberry pie. You resume to people watching.

God, he loves Oregon. And he loves you.

He really is a sap.

-

Wyoming

Washington was nice enough. You’ve taken him bar crawling most nights, and all of them have ended with him giving you a piggyback ride, per your request, back to the hotel room you were staying at.

It takes 13 hours to drive from Seattle to Yellowstone and you’ve driven all the way. You refused to disclose the destination of the trip and he’s fallen asleep the last 3 hours in the car. He’d mentioned he wanted to see the geysers somewhere in Pennsylvania two years ago and you remembered and took him.

Bucky couldn’t be happier.

He’s still describing the constellations above you when you fall asleep, and he’s so absorbed by the sky that he doesn’t notice until your head falls on his shoulder and he hears your soft snores.

He picks you up bridal style and takes you back to the fancy tent he bought on a whim in Ohio after you both slept in the SUV and woke up with major back and neck pain. He smiles as he removes your makeup with a wipe and does your skincare just the way you taught him, and admires your relaxed state.

He grazes your pretty face with his vibranium fingers, something so unimaginable to him before he met you, as he never thought his arm could bring anything other than pain.

Back when he was a semi stable 100 year old man thrust in another fight yet again, he hadn’t realized the extent of his feelings for you, believing he was only attracted to your beauty and youth. He hadn’t seen the way your smile lights up a whole room, nor the way you listen, truly listen, to anyone who may have anything to tell you, without ever judging them. He hadn’t witness your kindness and patience, let alone experienced them on his own skin. He hadn’t been lucky enough to watch you feed bird seed to the ducks of every pond of the country, or try to rescue a cat from a rooftop and almost falling off to save it.

Then Sam told him you were leaving and he felt like the word was collapsing on him. He’d found the sunlight and he never wanted to be without it.

Now he’s seen it all, all the little things that make you who you are, including your flaws, and he loves you not regardless of them, nor in spite of them, but because even your worst imperfections make you… you.

Bucky doesn’t know if meeting you was a way for the universe to fix all the wrongs that have been done to him, a sort of payback for all the shit he’s been put through, but in case it is, then he’s got no objections. And maybe he doesn’t deserve someone as good as you, but he’s a selfish man, and now that his sunshine girl is with him he never wants to plunge back into the the darkness ever again.

He tucks you both under the sleeping bag and snuggles next to you.

“Buck?” you mumble in a haze, tugging at his t-shirt, “Love you.”

It’s almost imperceptible, but his supersoldier hearing allows him to pick it up. He kisses the crown of your hair as he caresses your back.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

He wants to spend the rest of his time on Earth proving you how much.

-

New York

6 months later

The doctor wasn’t lying when she warned you that recovery would take 6 to 9 months.

You said the aftermath of the operation hurt like a bitch and that physiotherapy hurt even more. Today’s your last session and Bucky is glad about it for many reasons, like how you’re not in pain anymore for starters, and maybe because of how annoyingly fun, smart and hot your therapist is. Not like he’d ever admit it to you.

“Jesus,” you groan, “he turned me inside out like a sock, I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

“Sounds fun.” he deadpans.

“Someone’s jealous of the doctor?” you ask with a mischievous smirk.

“‘M not. He’s not all that.” he mumbles, blushing like a school boy.

You snort and drawl a ‘sure’. He sends you his best death glare.

“Whatever. I hope you don’t mind if we take a stop before going home.” he announces, helping you into the car. His palms feel clammy and he’s sweating despite the chilly winds of New York’s fall.

“Sure, where are we going?”

“Actually, that’s kind of a surprise, you’ll see.”

You beam at his words; he knows you love surprises and he hopes you’re going to like this one.

----

You look radiant as you lie on the blanket he’s spread on the grass, surrounded by colorful foliage. You’re sipping some of your favorite wine and nibbling on crackers as you admire a flock of birds migrating south in the sky.

You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish we wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

He’s prepared a long, passionate speech to tell you how much he loves you, of all the ways you’ve changed his life for the better and of all the reasons why he’d be a good husband.

But when you look at him with those bright eyes and beaming smile, he can barely remember his own name. He drops on one knee and holds the box out with shaky hands.

“Marry me, please.”

----

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog and comment, don’t be shy, feedback is always appreciated 🥺🤲

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #382

“’cuz if i stand up, i’ll break my bones, and everybody loves to see a fall unfold”

Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them? Well yeah. Most of my friends are online, and while I've seen pictures of most at least once or twice, some I still haven't. The last time you threw up, what caused it? It was a side effect of a mood stabilizer I started. Any foods from other countries you would like to try but haven’t yet? I'm sure there's something, idk. Do you think the world would be more peaceful without any religion? Yes. Have you ever had a stalker? No. Does it hurt your feelings when people talk shit about things you love? It makes me self-conscious way more than anything. I start to obsess over whether or not the person things poorly or weirdly of me for liking what I like. I just feel judged for liking it, but that's my problem. Do you like it when people give you nicknames? I do, actually. It feels kinda affectionate to me. Do you often find yourself checking out people’s butts? Haha I'm not gonna say it's never happened, but it's not something I make a habit out of for sure. What fandoms are you in? MEERKAT MANOR IS BACK BAYBEEEE, Markiplier, Silent Hill, Shadow of the Colossus, World of Warcraft, Spyro, Wings of Fire, and lots more, honestly. I'm into a lot of stuff, and I don't love in moderation, haha. Are there any fandoms you used to be in, but left? Yeah, like Supernatural, Good Mythical Morning, or Warriors, but it wasn't out of "I don't like it anymore" or anything, I just drifted away. Anything the fans in your fandoms do that pisses you off? World of Warcraft if particular has one of the most toxic fucking fanbases. There are so many goddamn elitists and people who whine about "boohoo WoW is dying" and "omg this game has been trash since Wrath" and yada yada yada and it's annoying as hell. They always find some shit to complain about. Then Silent Hill... ugh. I think people just hop onto the "the series sux after 1-4" bandwagon to fit in with a certain crowd, but that's not the main thing that annoys me; rather, it's the fact the former main admin of the SH wiki made a fucking joke out of us there. He was clearly having personal issues and made a HUGE and utterly ridiculous deal of Silent Hill 4 having heavy symbolism to the main character being obsessed with the bullshit idea of him being circumcised, and it led to a maaaassive thread of us members trying to talk some damn sense into him as he abused his power. He was finally banned by the Wikia staff, but not in time for some gaming websites to publish "news" stories about it because it was just that ludicrous. Now, YEARS later, we still get trolls coming onto the site to try and revive the drama by inserting absolute rubbish into pages or making new ones. Nowadays I'm the main administrator there, and it's fucking embarrassing sometimes. I'm supposed to keep the wiki under control and respected, you know? Ugh, I'll stop. I could rant for a very long time about this. Do you prefer ruffly or regular potato chips? Ruffly. Do you write down your own recipes, or just commit them to memory? I don’t cook. What color do you want to dye your hair? My top three are pastel pink, lilac, and a light creamsicle orange. I REALLY want to dye it SOMETHING. :( How do you like your chicken? Of course breaded (like nuggets, tenders) is my favorite, but I also enjoy is broiled and seasoned well. There's other ways, but because I don't cook, I, uh... don't know how a lot are made lmao. Do you enjoy cheese fries? UUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH YES. Do you eat refried beans? I absolutely hate beans, so no. What is a food you enjoy, but don’t have very often? A whole lot because a lot of it is from restaurants and we don't eat out all that much. As well, my diet is very narrow just because of how picky I am. Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn? Why? I mean, what are we comparing them for? I think Audrey is fucking gorgeous, though. Marilyn is also beautiful. Favorite fictional world? Uh, I dunno. Do you use lint rollers often? No. Do you carry pepper spray? No, but I want to. Has your power ever gone out for more than a day? I think so. Other than a dislike button, what’s something you wish Facebook had? Hm, I dunno. What time do your parents normally get home from work? Mom can't work right now, but I think Dad gets off around 5PM. Are you afraid to ask people out on dates? Yep. Do you think it’s better to look for love or let it find you? Both can work, but I definitely prefer to let it find me. I feel that *in general* that usually has better results. Have you ever found yourself worrying about commitment? No. I'm a very committed person romantically. Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? No. Have you ever had a rash from poison ivy? I don't believe so, no. Do you have any chairs in your bedroom? No. Did you watch Elmo as a child? Some, yeah. Do you know anyone who doesn’t eat meat? I don't think so, off the top of my head. When you throw up, do you cry? No, but I'm a whiner and will also shake from fear because I have such a phobia of vomiting. Doing it totally turns me into a baby. Who was the last person to carry you? I couldn't tell you the last person to full-on carry me, but back when I tore a ligament in my foot, my mom kinda had me lifted when she would help me walk. Is it easy for you to accept loss? Absolutely not. I handle it very, very poorly. Have you done anything sneaky lately? No. Have you ever had a rolling back pack? Yes. Who knows you better than anyone else? My mom, probably. Would you ever want to go to Brazil? Sure, if the opportunity came up. Are there any medical conditions that run in your family? A lot, mostly heart problems. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica imo. Who is the biggest jerk you've ever met? She was somehow my former best friend. Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never been in that situation, thankfully. What's a charity you would never donate to? I'm really not familiar enough with charities and their practices to know which ones are sketch or not. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you have any exes you'd consider dating again? Yes. What were some of your favorite classes you took in high school? Art and German. Mythology was fun, too. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Yeah, I have a cousin that's a lawyer. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, outta curiosity. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like, two days. Part of the reason I left Girt was because I liked Sara. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? Chicken noodle soup. What's a movie series where the sequel was better than the original? Ha, for some reason Inspector Gadget came to mind. I guess from mentioning my childhood. I was FUCKING OBSESSED with that movie as a kid. The first one's fine, but I love the second one. Does your car have heated seats? Mom's doesn't. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing strange, really. Describe your hometown. What’s it like there? Small and dangerous. Lots of run-down areas. A gang nearly broke into our house once, if that helps you get the picture. What was the last video game you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 forever ago. What did you learn from your last failed relationship? It really just taught me that you need to take care of your own mental health before you can effectively handle another's properly and strike a healthy balance. What country does your favorite band hail from? Britain. What’s something on your to-do list that never actually gets done? Finish decorating my room. -_- Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it? Good Mythical Morning, I suppose. I used to be OB-SESSED. I still adore Rhett and Link as people, they are fucking wonderful human beings and excellent entertainers, I just drifted away from their content. I don't really know why. Do you sleep with the TV or the radio on? No. What’s the worst thing about being male/female (whichever you are)? Menstrual cycles, I'd say. It affects your mood so much, and as someone who's bipolar, it can be very confusing. I like to know why I'm feeling a certain way. What movie has the best special effects? /shrug How many work hours per week is too much for you? I wouldn't know, I've never really worked long enough to figure this out. Can you remember your first day of school? I think I have the faintest memory of it. I know I was very scared to leave my mom (I had absolutely awful separation anxiety from her) and I MIGHT have cried, but I don't really recall with certainty. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? No thanks. Did you keep any drawings/stories from when you were younger? Most, no, because the level of cringe is LITERALLY unbearable for me. Do you have a safe? Mom does somewhere. What’s the scariest thing to happen to you so far? The breakup. That night was just fucking terrifying. I was so certain my life was over, like the situation was so, so impossible in my head. What was your last dream about? (or your daydream if you don’t remember) My memory's faint, but I just remember I had a nightmare where a LOT of my bones were totally snapped in half. When was the last time you saw a relative? Excluding my immediate family, I last saw my now-departed grandmother and my uncle a while back at a hotel as they were passing through. Have you ever been in a TV audience? No. Are you in any way close to reaching a personal goal? Not really... Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? Word searches. Do you like making collages? Not really. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? No. What would you love to learn to do? Digital art, like drawing on a tablet. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? Lemurs. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? The plot, 100%. Are you more shy in real life or on the internet? I am WAY more shy irl.

[romewritingshop]

Say you won’t let go

Fandom: Choices, Perfect Match

Relationship: Damien Nazario X F!MC (Name: Peach Park)

Warnings: Slight talk of smut, fluff, vomit, graphic death, alcohol drinking

Word Count Total: 2797

A/N: I’ve been in an emotional mood and so I was listening to Markiplier’s cover of ‘Say you won’t let go’. The song makes me so emotional and I thought Damien and Peach needed it. So I wrote this fic and posted it. I’d recommend listening to the instrumental or the lyrical version while reading. Instead of posting a sneak peek, I thought I could post the whole fic so here it is.

Markiplier Cover - Say you won’t let go

Instrumental Say you won’t let go

CHOICES MASTERLIST

Tagged: @ravenpuff02​ @ephemeralsunsets​

A low jazz voice hummed in the air of his office as Damien examined the evidence for his current case. This stalker was impressive in covering their tracks and Damien was struggling to connect the strings of graphic art and threatening love letters. His office was strewn with red tape and papers, almost as if his evidence board had come to life. Nadia Park’s case was proving to be his biggest challenge yet. He ran his hand through his hair and stood away from his desk, trying to see the case from a different angle.

A knock rang on the door as Damien grunted and opened the door, only to see the familiar dark hair that faded into light curls. The person turned to Damien and he held his breath in his neck. It was his client’s cousin, Peach Park, dressed in a fitted light pink button shirt that seemed to make her stature taller than she actually was. Accompanied with a bright orange pleated skirt that made her legs glow. She certainly looked amazing and different, she was usually dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans or a denim dress.

It was a welcome change and Damien gave a brisk nod to let Peach in. He assumed she wanted to see the progress of his case and he had no qualms about it. The client has a right after all, he glanced back through the door and noticed Nadia Park wasn’t there. He furrowed his eyebrows and turned between Peach and the empty hallway. Damien closed the door and took in Peach and realised that her face had more of a shine as usual. He felt a little hot under the collar but the window was closed. He had never been alone with Peach and no matter how many times he thought about it, he hadn’t believed it would happen. Until now that is.

“Hello Miss Park, what brings you to my office tonight?”

Deep down he hoped she came for him but a man can only dream. Remaining professional with her helped dampen his desire and need to know her more.

“How many times have I told you to call me Peach? If you don’t call me Peach, then I’ll start calling you, Mr. Nazario.”

As much as Damien would love to be called that, it also reminded him of how much older he was as he rubbed the back of his neck. He could never get over saying her name, he’d often repeat it to himself in the dead of night. He could never understand the power she had over him as he gave her a small smile.

“Sorry, Peach.”

“That’s better.”

“So do you want the run-down for what I’ve got so far?”

Damien went around her to grab a list of potential suspects when he felt her hand on his wrist. Damien almost audibly gasped at her sudden contact as he took in her slim fingers around his wrist.

“Actually Damien, I’m here for something else.”

Damien felt his heart rate increase steadily as his brain ran through different scenarios, some good but mostly bad. She probably doesn’t want Damien on the case anymore; she found out about Beitan; she doesn’t need him anymore. He must have gotten lost in his head as he felt a shake against his wrist. Damien escaped his mental hell to see Peach in front of him, a soft comforting smile. Her eyes were a cave full of life and wonders and Damien could feel himself getting lost in them.

“I wanted to ask if you were free to have a drink with me?”

Damien blinked as he slowly took in her words. A drink? With him? Was he dreaming? He hoped not as he repeated the words.

“A drink?”

A soft laugh came out as Peach smiled.

“Yes, a drink.”

He wasn’t meant to say that aloud as he felt his cheeks and ears heat up at her words. She had the softest sweetest laugh that reminded Damien of wind chimes blowing in the wind. He never felt like this with Alana and it really riled him up in the core of his soul. She took her wrist away to straighten her skirt and Damien was close to begging her to bring her touch back but he held back. It wouldn’t seem professional as she went on.

“You’ve been working so hard for my cousin, I thought I’d offer you a drink as a way to say thanks. And to probably give you a break from looking at photos all day.” His heart warmed at the fact that she was concerned for him. It was a redeeming quality of hers as she gave him one of her sweet smiles. “It’s on me the drink.”

Damien would’ve gladly given her his soul, even before she asked. Damien smiled and took Peach up on her offer, grabbing his jacket and keys and locking his office door.

Several hours later, Damien and Peach swayed from side to side, trudging up the steps to her apartment. The both of them giggling about the moving wallpaper and the rainbow cats. Damien could not remember anything as Peach reached into her clutch, pulling out her apartment key. She missed the keyhole three times and only managed to get it in with Damien’s help, They pushed the door open and stumbled in, Peach blindly tapped the walls for the switch. With pure luck she found them as she turned to Damien with a finger to her lips.

“Sh! You’re going to wake up Nadia!”

“Nadia doesn’t live with you!”

“I know! You’re going to wake her up!”

“Okay.”

The both of them wobbled against each other and just about reached the living room, Damien plopped himself on the sofa and Peach followed, falling face first onto Damien’s lap.

“Ah! My cojones!”

“What’s that?”

“My drawers!”

They giggled at the word and took a moment to breath. There was a comfortable silence as Damien ran his hands through her hair. It was coarse but she purred at the slow contact, he smiled in his drunken haze. It has been a while since he was in such a happy state as he glanced down at her but Peach had a slight grimace on her face. Her stomach grumbled as she pushed herself up to face him.

“I’m gonna vomit.”

Damien registered the word vomit and slowly got up, helping her stand and taking her to the bathroom. He could feel the alcohol muddling his brain as he just about opened the bathroom door. She dropped away from him and brought her face close to the toilet seat. Sounds of bile splashed against the water as Damien dropped to his knees beside her and grabbed her hair into a pony, with one hand. The other rubbed her back in an upwards motion to help her get the vomit out and Damien watched her hair. 

He had seen worse things in his life but he’d take the sight of her vomiting over anything else. He cooed at her softly and once the groans of pain lowered, he grabbed some toilet roll for Peach to clean her mouth. After emptying her stomach, Peach took the tissue to clean her face and lifted her head to look back at Damien. He felt all the alcohol in his system flush as she threw him a loving smile that he felt she only gave to intimate lovers. She murmured a soft thank you that had Damien heart pump harder, she was sitting back and she brought her head close to his sternum. Damien placed a tentative hand on her arm as he hummed at the close contact. He shouldn’t take advantage of her like this but he wanted to indulge in his deep fantasy. He felt her lips brush against his button shirt as she spoke.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?”

Damien felt his heart melt at her sweet request. Many times a night he had dreamed about staying in Peach’s house, in her bed but he looked down at her drunken state. She wasn’t in the right state of mind and she was only a client. She was a client’s relative and Damien knew it would be overstepping boundaries. As much as he deeply wanted to, he knew he couldn’t so he shook his head softly.

“I think that you should get some rest.”

~~~~~~

Damien heard the train whistle of his kettle go off as he put away his newspaper and grabbed two coffee mugs, placing the filter paper on top and the beans. He poured the green coloured kettle into the mugs and got rid of the filter papers, letting the mugs sit and stew with the rich caffeine. He glanced at his bedroom door, hoping Peach wouldn’t get up and ruin his surprise but the door hadn’t moved. He grabbed the two mugs and walked out of the kitchen and straight into his bedroom, a warm smile grew on his face.

Peach was still asleep soundly as her curves heaved up and down slowly. The comforter was off her body and her body was spread into a misshapen starfish. Damien shook his head as Peach often loved spreading her body out and popping her behind into the air. He could never understand how she was able to sleep in that position but she looked adorable. Her mint green shorts had ridden up to show the zebra stripes of stretch marks on her back thigh and the bumpy surface. He went around the bed to his side, placing the coffee mugs on his bedside drawer and leaning on his arm to take a better look at Peach.

He brought his hand to the edge of her shorts and pulled it down slightly so Peach wouldn’t complain about her shorts riding up. She loved the way they felt but they often caused more harm than good as Damien smiled to himself about the complaints she’s made. Her navy blue camisole brought more prominence in her love handles and sleeping on her front, pushed her breasts together. She looked utterly stunning in the morning, it is because it was the first raw thing that Damien would see. He was so glad she was his.

As if sensing something, Peach forced her eyes open to see her love, Damien leaning beside her. A full chest of dark curls on display and dark horn rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. There was a slight softness near his stomach yet he still looked built and lean in the many years before they were together. His grey sweatpants hung low on his waist and that sweet trail of hair disappeared into the waistband of the pants. The both of them took in the other with unashamed, unjudging eyes as they gave a soft greeting to one another.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Damien brought his lips to press a short kiss to the brow of her hair and reach behind him to present her with her mug of coffee. It had a picture of Damien on it and she was able to wake up even more. She pushed herself up slightly snuggled into Damien’s side, kissing his collarbone and wrapping her hands around the mug.

“Just what I need.”

“I know.”

She took a deep sip and exhaled blissfully, letting the warm coffee seep into her blood and liven her soul. Damien too took a sip of his coffee and purred with content at the sweet warmth.

“This is amazing.”

“Isn’t it?”

Damien curved his eyebrow up as if suggesting he was amazing. Peach rolled her eyes and took another sip.

“I meant the coffee.”

“What about the company?”

“Could be better.” Damien pinched the side of her waist as she yelped excitedly, before she nestled further. “It’s perfect. you’re perfect.”

“That I am.”

A few minutes later, they both had finished their coffee as Damien took his and her cup to place on the bedside table. He had a cheshire smile on his face as he brought his hand to her shoulder for her to lay down, he held himself over her as a few strands of hair drooped down. Peach smiled and brought her hands to his cheek, taking in the slightly overgrown beard.

“Now we’ve got a few minutes before the morning really starts.”

“What are you going to do about it, Nazario?”

“I’m going to have my way with you.”

“Think you can be quick about it, old man?”

Damien smirked as he slotted himself in between Peach’s legs as the hair on her legs tickled Damien’s waist. Damien loved Peach’s body hair, the way it would brush against the back of his thighs when she’d wrap her legs around his waist, it would send chills through his body. Peach is really his. Before he could lean in to kiss her, the door opened and small footsteps thumped in the room. Followed by high pitched squeals, tiny bodies jumped on the bed, latching onto Damien and Peach.

Small round faces and bright eyes as a boy and girl jumped with unbelievable hyperness. Damien and Peach’s kids: Sofía and Gael. Both were seven and six years of age, they had Damien’s looks but Peach’s excitable personality. Damien rolled off of Peach and sat up on the bed, taking his daughter into his arms and Peach took Gael into hers. Damien turned to Peach and raised an eyebrow at her, as if blaming her for their kids interrupting their moment.

She rolled her eyes and brought Gael close, kissing his forehead and cheeks. He repeated many ‘I love yous’ and ‘Mummys’ while Sofía watched her dad with curiosity. She had her excitable moments but at this current moment, she was just like her dad. Perceptive and clever as she spoke up in spanish.

“Papa, qué hacías?” Dad, what were you doing?

Damien glanced nervously from his daughter to Peach, who watched the both of them with amusement.

“Nada, Princesa.” Nothing, Princess.

Peach stood up from the bed and arched her back, stretching the knots made in her sleep. She got both her kids to go out the room and told them to get dressed so that they could go to school. Damien watched his love care so deeply and once the kids went to the other room, Peach stood in the doorway of their bedroom. Their kids are the best thing that has ever happened to him and he could never dream about anyone else. Damien got up to Peach and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to his chest.

“I wanna dance with you right now.” Peach laughed her sweet laugh as she swayed along with Damien. “I love you and I wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old.”

“I think that’s already starting to happen. I can see a little grey in your beard.”

At that she rubbed her palm over his cheek, fingers brushing against his lip. Damien opened his mouth and took a bite at her finger before placing a soft kiss and nuzzling his head into her shoulder. She was the one for him, her soft smile and bright eyes gave light to Damien’s life. He was so glad to bare his soul to her.

~~~~~~

“NO!”

It was too late as Damien pushed against the restraining hold of Hayden. Harley had Peach in his grasp and he pressed his fingers deep in her neck, a loud crunch of bones echoed in the room. They were back at EROS and just as they were about to break free and blow the facility up, Cecile had activated the hive mind control which took over the minds of all the matches. Hayden included. Damien felt his heart smash to pieces and time moved slowly, as Peach’s round body fell to the ground. There were no emotions for Damien to express the scene in front of him as he stared at Peach. Her bright hue was gone and replaced by a grey sickening colour and death claimed her bright lively soul. The love of his life was gone right before him, he closed his eyes to purge the uncomfortable thoughts of Peach.

~~~~~~

Damien opened his eyes to see himself in a clear tiled room, not the EROS facility or at home with Peach. Soon he heard the loud taps of heels and found the devil in front him. A smartly dressed woman with piercing green eyes and angry red hair: Cecile Contreras. She looked down at Damien with a sickening smile and turned her face forward to the screen behind Damien.

“Response is good. Up the dosage and add twenty milligrams of delysid. You’re doing very good, Damien. We’re close to creating the perfect match.”

[poguesofthebau]

Hi!! can i get a ship please? my name is Kiara, so do with that what you will. Im bi-racial and bisexual. i am 5 feet 9 inches, so relatively tall, my hair usually stays in a bun but is very curly, i have a pretty girly style, sundresses and what not. i tend to be the mom friend, i speak very softly, i’ve been told my voice is soothing, i’m very loyal, responsible, kind empathetic, and like pope level smart lol. i play guitar, paint, read, and bake. i eat healthy and am on the swim team!

i ship you with pope!! (honorary mention: kie would be your best best best friend. literal twin flames. the boys would refer to you and kie as “kie squared,” and the rest of the obx would refer to you as “the kiaras.” half the people on the island would think you guys were sisters, mostly because you’d spent the first 3 years of your friendship telling everyone at your elementary school that you were sisters.)

i feel like this is just such a natural fit. you and pope would always be 100% comfortable with each other. except one time: the first time you guys ever met. he’d be a mess, with sweaty palms and shaking hands. his smile would be convincing, but you could see the anxiety behind it. you’d automatically stamp pope as ‘the nice one’ in the back of your head, not really realizing how deep in you’d get with all the pogues, but immediately knowing he was your kind of person. when he started to get more comfortable with you, cracking his usual jokes and playfully bickering with the boys, you’d mentally pat yourself on the back for just knowing there had to be more to the kid. you and pope would grow to be great friends at first, and then your friends would catch on.

the first time you’d ever suspect something was really going on with pope, specifically pope and you, would be a summer afternoon that you’d spent at the Chateau with john b. he’d been too hungover lazy to tag along with pope, jj, and kie when they took out the pogue for a few hours, and you’d skipped because you had woken up with the sudden urge to bake. so john b would spend those hours laying on the couch, drinking a few beers (”it cures the hangover, dude!”) and chatting with you as you made a mess of his kitchen for the sake of some good desserts later. it was fun day-- you didn’t typically spend much one-on-one time with john b, one or more of the pogues usually tagging along with you guys, but he was one of your best friends, and you always loved hanging with him. by the time the rest of the gang got back from their day on the water, you and jb were sprawled out on the couch eating cupcakes and laughing at each other’s favorite dad jokes. kie and jj would walk in first, jj reaching into the fridge for another beer while kie raided the goodies you’d prepared, hungry after sitting in the sun all day. pope, however, happened to be lagging a little. he’d sulk through the door thirty seconds later, eyes locking onto yours right away. something happened, you immediately though. you’d tilt your head questioningly at him, and he’d just shake his head, a mixture of somberness and aggravation in his actions. he’d stomp into the bathroom, and you turned to the others to see if they’d noticed his mood. they did. “don’t worry about it,” kie would say to you. “he’s been in a mood all day.” “yeah,” jj would chime in, gulping down some of his beer before he continued. “he’s just pissed that somebody stole his girl.” jj would snicker, john b covering up a laugh through a cough as kie rolled her eyes. they know something i don’t.

a few hours later, things had died down at the Chateau, and you and kie were on your way home. the boys were all staying at john b’s, and you and kie had plans for a sleepover. “so,” you’d begin when you finally got to the security of her car. “what was pope’s deal today?” she’d throw you a look, shifting her car into reverse and shaking her head. “pope,” she’d reply, now shifting into drive and heading onto the main road. “is an idiot. he’ll figure it out.” “okay, but what is there to figure out? like, does everybody know something that i don’t?” kie would smile, shaking her head. “i’m not getting into this.” “well, you’ve got me all night, so good luck. i’m getting it out of you.” and you did. when kie went home and decided to smoke a little, you encouraged it. statistically, she was much more likely to word vomit while baked than she would sober. so she smoked, and she talked, and she told you that, “pope’s a pussy. he was all mad the whole time on the pogue because you were cuddling with john b or whatever, like, what? dramatic.” for the first few minutes after she told you, you didn’t believe her. after regurgitating an entire conversation about you that had gone on between jj and pope earlier in the day, though, kie had you convinced. then would come your favorite part of the whole ‘how pope and kiara wound up together’ story. 

your stoner of a friend then insisted on hitting a 7Eleven, or a convenience store, or something, so the poor girl could get the cool ranch Doritos she so desperately needed. so, like the good friend you were, you’d hop in her car and drive to the nearest open store that sold the chips, telling her to sit innocently in the car while you went in to grab them. funny enough, you wouldn’t be the only pogue in that store. you’d walk in and hear three familiar voices-- john b, jj, and pope. grabbing the bag of chips with a smirk, you’d head over to see what the boys (who had yet to notice you) were doing. “pope’s high!” jj would squeal as soon as he saw you. “kiara, pope is highhhhh.” you’d make eye contact with john b, who looked miserable, and laugh before looking back at jj. “pope’s not the only one who’s high, jj.” moments later, jj was trying to do something illegal (probably open a jar of pickles before paying for it), and he and john b became preoccupied. glancing out at the car to see kie singing to a song on the radio, you made a spur of the moment decision. “pope, can i talk to you?” his eyes would widen first, and then his face would break into this huge, contagious smile that you unwillingly returned. he’d follow you to the other side of the store, dopey smile and all. “what’s up, kiara? my favorite kie. but don’t tell other kie. kie c. c kie. don’t tell her. that’d be bad. that’d be mean.” you’d chuckle, internally rethinking your plan to discuss this while pope was so far gone but knowing you’d never have the courage otherwise. “yeah, i actually heard the news today. that i’m your favorite kie, i mean. what’s that about?” you’d cross your arms in front of your chest, prompting pope to defensively copy your movement. “um, excuse me. that’s common knowledge. everybody knows you’re my favorite kie. except kie. seriously, don’t tell her.” you’d laugh again, shaking your head. “okay, pope. i won’t tell her. but, when your high fades, text me and we can have a real conversation about that?” he’d almost seem to come out of it then, nodding slowly with wide eyes. “okay, favorite kie. i’ll text you later. do you want me to buy your Doritos?”

[thehoodsweetheart]

Sandcastles | Part. II

A/N: You guys asked for Part 2 so here we are! I could create a whole playlist for the songs that inspired this. I hope you guys enjoy it. There may be a few errors. I’ve been trying to push this out for a while.

Warnings: Fuckboy!Erik (cont.), Some Angst, Mentions of Smut

Summary: If you have not read Sandcastles Part 1, please do so before reading this. Although, it may not be totally necessary to do so but it helps. The reader is a Black Woman, always has been always will be. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            You dragged the half-full black Nike duffle bag along the edge of Iman’s closet. Your hands worked diligently taking the various dresses, onesies, sweaters, and pants off of their hangers. You worked strategically folding them to maximize the amount that could fit into the duffle. Thus far, all of drawers in Iman’s dresser were cleared and you were half way through the closet. You never realized your baby had so many clothes. Maybe you shouldn’t take everything? Nah, scratch that. Pack it all.

          Where were you going? The last place most people would think to find you and you found solace in that, your twin brother’s house. In his words, he had a big ass house that he was barely at. Yes, you are a twin but when your parents divorced they thought the arrangement of your brother staying with your father and you your mother was a logical idea. They were wrong. On you guy’s seventh birthday, your dad moved and took JR with him to Louisiana and somewhere between holidays and summer visits, your very own twin became like a stranger. That is until you guys matured enough to forage your own relationship, which has innately gotten better since he started playing for the Los Angeles Rams.

           You glanced at the white digital clock that sat atop of Iman’s changing table. You inhaled deeply wiping the few droplets of sweat away from your brow. Your eyes shifted to the sleeping Iman in her crib. She was taking her morning nap right on schedule. It was hell trying to get her to go to sleep because apparently during your time away, Iman had grown used to sleeping on her father’s chest. You hadn’t realized it but for a moment you had been holding your breath. Exhaling slowly, you felt the familiar churning of your stomach. Fuck, not again. You had to work faster. You needed to work faster. Time was of the essence and this morning sickness was only slowing you down. 

          If we’re being honest, the term morning sickness wasn’t even applicable. You had all day sickness. You couldn’t keep a single thing down, not even water, which was a concern. You dropped the onesie that you had in hand and rushed to the nearest bathroom. You toppled over spilling whatever contents were left in your stomach into the toilet; at this point it was nothing but bile. You dry heaved as a stray tear escaped your eye. You weren’t even this sick when you were pregnant with Iman. Pregnancy with her was relatively easy. You didn’t have many aches and pains, nor excessive sickness, or extreme cravings. You biggest challenge with her was heartburn and you loved spicy food. Erik would argue that your mood swings were the biggest challenge. Fuck Erik. Your chest tightened with just the thought of him.

           Your phone pinged alerting you of a new text. You pulled yourself together brushing your teeth trying not to gag and end hunched over the toilet once again. You returned to Iman’s nursery picking up your phone. It was a text from JR.

Wazzam sis? Where you at? You good? You need me to come over there?

I’m still packing. I’m good, just a little sick. It’s slowing me down.

Just get what you can. I’ll send some movers to get the rest of your stuff if you need me to. I know you’re trying to get out of there before your boy gets back.

You stared blankly at your brother’s last text. Your lips pressed together in a thin line as your heart rate increase. You needed to be out before Erik got back.

I’ll be on my way within the next 30 minutes. Maybe less.

You quickly texted back. At least you hoped to be out within that timeframe.

         Erik finally returned to work today so it was your golden opportunity. It had been three days since you returned home. The first two days were filled with avoidance on your part. You slept in one of the guestrooms with the door locked. Tiptoed through the house as if it weren’t your house too. A soon as Erik entered one of the common areas you were in you were quick on your toes to make an exit. This couldn’t last long though. You couldn’t avoid him while occupying the same home. The more you avoided him, the longer you knew he would stay home from work.

        Erik was trying to apologize in the best ways he knew how. There we gifts that he strategically placed in Iman’s nursery because he knew you had to go in there. It only earned him a scoff and an eye roll. You couldn’t be bought. He tried ordering food from your favorite Mexican restaurant. Erik even cooked which he hasn’t done in over a month. You gladly accepted the food but opted to eat alone. The food would’ve been a nice sentiment if you could make it through a meal without vomiting. Then came the flowers, the obnoxious amount of flowers that practically covered the entire house. Each bouquet had a hand written apology that you didn’t give him the gratification of reading in front of him. He had been walking on eggshells knowing you would make good on your promise to leave, but you pulled a “him” to appease his worries.

       Making your way to bedroom to grab some of your essentials, you could only wonder if somehow what you were doing or did could in anyway backfire. You cringed at the thought. You were honestly repulsed at your actions from last night and this morning. If you knew anything about your husband, you knew he was smart. Scratch that, he’s a genius. But would he catch on?

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           You peaked into the in-home gym watching intently as Erik lifted weights. He laid back bench-pressing an obscene amount of weights. Jaw clinched, eyebrows knitted close together, eyes intently fixed on the metal bar above him Erik had to be deep in thought. The sweat that dripped down his chest drenched his shirt causing it to cling to his body. Based on his usual nightly routine, you knew his workout would be done within the next 10 to 15 minutes before he was done. You shook your clammy hands in front of you before clasping them together. You still needed to work up the courage to follow through with your plan but that would have to be enough time.

           You jogged upstairs to get your head start. Cracking the bedroom door, you peaked inside of nursery to ensure Iman was in a deep sleep. Turning on your toes you took quick strides to the master bedroom. You made your way around you and Erik’s bedroom to the adjoining bathroom. You leaned against your vanity staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your coffin shaped nails tapped against the marble top. You had wasted enough time.

           You turned on the shower adjusting the temperature. You stripped out of your clothes, put on a shower cap, and stepped into the steaming hot shower. You closed your eyes allowing your mind to roam as the water hit your body. There were still so many unanswered questions. Some questions that Erik refused to answer and plenty of questions you dared not ask, because honestly did you really need those answers. Would you feel better if you knew how long the affair lasted? If it was only a few times or did they fuck all the time? Who fucks better? Is that even a determining factor in if you could forgive him? Did he know her prior to the internship or was his attraction to her why he hired her?

           You clenched and unclenched your fist ignoring the burning sensation of water temperature being a bit too hot. The more you thought about it, the angrier you could feel yourself become. How dare he betray your trust for the second time? Your grandma always said fool me once shame one you, fool me twice shame on me, and if you get fooled three times you are a goddamn fool. You began to scrub at your skin increasing the burning sensation. It was too bad you couldn’t wash away the disgust. You wanted to him to hurt like he made hurt. Not even physical pain, but the mental and emotional pain you endured leading up to this very moment. That’s exactly why you couldn’t stay there much longer, but leaving is always harder than it seems.

           The sound of the bathroom door opening caught you off guard causing you to jump out of your thoughts. Your eyes snapped open to see Erik entering the bathroom with his wireless Beats by Dre headphones on. He stopped dead in his tracks taking in the view of you. A mixture of emotions flashed through his eyes the most prominent being uncertainty. You scrambled to cover yourself with your arms as if this wasn’t your husband who’d seen you naked plenty of times.

“I’ll be out soon.” You called out. This was the most you had spoken to him in two days.

      Erik took off the headphones dragging his tongue across his bottom lip the glint from his gold fangs flashed. He pulled the sweat- drenched tee over his head facing you the entire time not breaking eye contact. His eyes were filled with remorse, a flash of that lost puppy look washing over his face. He nodded in appreciation of your voice holding on to every sound of every syllable. As short of a sentence it may have been, it was better than your silence. Shit, even being cussed out was better than silence. Silence just made the situation marinate. It straight up made him feel like shit.

“Nah…you don’t gotta rush.” Erik swaggered back into their room.

           Letting out an uneasy sigh, a devious smirk formed on your lips. It was show time. You quickly rinsed off before grabbing your towel wrapping it tightly around your body and snatching off the shower cap. You picked up your lotion from your vanity then strutted into your room. You completely ignored Erik’s presence as you proceeded to dry off in front of the floor length mirror in your room. You could feel his gaze piercing into you. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You glanced up through the mirror to see him watching you as if you were prey. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread, as he hunched forward with a more predatory look in his eyes dreads falling into his face.

           You broke the gaze maintaining a stoic, unbothered expression. This was all a game and you were about to have fun with it. You proceeded to point your foot placing it on the edge of the bed as you rubbed in your lotion at an agonizingly slow pace. It would only be a matter of a few moments before you would get the reaction you were seeking, the reaction that you were taunting out of Erik. You knew he had the audacity.

       Erik stood up rounding the bed acting as though he was searching for something within your proximity.  You rolled your eyes at his obviousness. By now you had switched legs, beginning to moisturize the other. As you leaned forward, arching your back some you began to work the Shea Butter starting from your ankle, leading to your calf, then your thigh. Your hands inched closer to the apex of your thigh when Erik’s hand got a firm hold of your wrist, the front of his body being pressed against the back of yours. You cut your eyes at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the shower?” Your words laced with attitude.

“Yea but not yet” He mumbled huskily against your ear. “Let me help you with this…It’s the least I could do.” Erik nibbled at the rim of your ear. “…The least I could do to show you how sorry I really am.”

           You tried to suppress a moan as he flicked his tongue across the flesh just below your ear as his calloused hand kneaded at the apex of your thighs. Your back arched more pressing your ass firmer against him. Blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but as angry as you still were with him, your body was betraying you. The pulse, that’s right an actual heartbeat, you felt at your center let you know the tough ‘act’ was over. The glaze on your lower lips that was beginning to drip onto your inner thighs just solidified it. His nose rubbed along the side of your neck as he leaned more into you.

“N’Jadaka…” You whined in protest only to receive a dark chuckle in response.

“See princess…all you gotta do is give Daddy permission.”

       Erik stuffed one hand into the mess of your thick curls gripping them in his fist. You sucked air through clenched teeth from his sudden roughness. He forced you to look in his eyes, something you refused to do for extended periods of time of the last few days, before capturing you in an intoxicated kiss.

           You hated how you craved him. How your body craved him. How lust could supersede hurt and anger. How your flesh burned and yearned for salacious acts only he could provide. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself, right? It all happened in a blur. You tried to rationalize through every kiss, lick, bite, and tug at flesh, that this is what you needed to do. You needed him open and what better way to breakdown his wall of paranoia. Or were you the one open? How could you not be repulsed by stooping this low in an act of manipulation? You knew he would leap at the opportunity to fuck you into submission and forgiveness if possible. He’d better enjoy it because it would be the last time he would get to. Little did Erik know, he was far from forgiven. Did he honestly think you would give in after being home for three days? Wrong. You only confronted him about his escapades eight days prior.

        But now here you were, in control as your hips rose and fell, your aching core gripping his entire length thoroughly stretched to accommodate his girth. Your head thrown back eyes shut tightly. Erik delivered a powerful smack on your ass that only served as encouragement and motivation. You peered down at him through hooded eyes biting down on your bottom lip. You dragged your nailed down his studded chest and abs. It was time to pick up the pace. You bounced faster being sure to tighten you walls each time you reached the tip. The tip hitting your spot at just the right angle every time encouraged your cream to both of your thighs. The room was filled with sounds of flesh slapping and the sloshing of your sex. When Erik reached to grip your hips you slapped his hands away. You knew he wanted to gain control but this was a revenge fuck. He let out a growl as his abs flexed. Despite reforming over the years, your husband still thrived on power. A lack of power would only frustrate him. You were on the verge of cumming so he power trip would have to wait. A slue of curse words followed letting you know you had him just where you wanted him. It was also only a matter of time before he would take over…and that he did.

       You passed out cumming and woke up the next morning on the verge of cumming. One leg raised in the air cuffed in his brolic arm, he was buried so deep in you from the side that you felt winded. You didn’t know if you wanted to curse him out or sing praises, so you did both. The overwhelming sensation brought tears to your eyes that Erik gladly kissed away while whispering yet another apology. If you weren’t already pregnant, you would’ve surely ended pregnant after this escapade.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

           You blinked a few times at your reflection in the mirror. Purplish bruises cover your neck and the tops of your breast. You zipped up your hoodie to the top in efforts to hide them. You didn’t even want anyone to have a clue that you had sex with Erik after he cheated on you. Imagine being embarrassed of sleeping with your own husband. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as your broke away from your trance. You had to move on and move fast. You sped walked into your walk-in closet grabbing a tote immediately grabbing some essentials like under garments, a track suit, sundresses, and sandals. You grabbed enough clothes to last you until you called a moving company to pick up the rest of your things the next day. Next on your to do list was the bathroom to pack your hygienic products. Your eyes darted around the room. Was there anything important you were forgetting? You surely hoped not.

           You waltzed over to the stand pulling out a notepad you used to keep in there. You pulled out the pen that was wedged into the spirals. The devil on your shoulder was back at it again as the pen glided across the page. Your pettiness was getting the best of you.

Erik,

           If you’re reading this, then you should know that we’re gone. Don’t come looking for us. Fuck marriage counseling. This marriage was over when you decided to have a second affair. I won’t keep Iman away from you, but I never want to see your sorry ass ever again. I’ll have my mom or somebody bring her to you for visits. As far as baby #2, I’ll have you informed when I’m in labor.

P.S. I hope you enjoyed last night and this morning. Now you know how it feels to be fucked into thinking everything is okay.

Love, Y/n Udaku-Stevens

           You ripped off the page setting it on top of the nightstand. You twisted your wedding ring and bands off in one motion setting them on top of the note before grabbing your tote and heading back to Iman’s nursery. You made sure to slip off her Kimoyo beads leaving them in her crib. You had taken yours off the first time you left eight days ago. You swiftly situated Iman into her car seat. You would have to carry her and you guys’ bags, but this wasn’t something you were unaccustomed to. You carried her with plenty of grocery bags whenever Erik was out of town or just simply not around.

           As you finished loading your truck, you paused. This was it. How would Erik react coming home to two being gone…for good. You knew he suffered from issues of abandonment. Were you adding to his problems of being alone?  It could definitely trigger it. You groaned resting your forehead on the car’s door. You couldn’t pity him. He clearly didn’t care about how you felt anymore.

           You hopped into the driver’s seat and proceeded to drive off. You drove away from the house that was supposed to be a home to build your family. You didn’t want to stay there though. It wasn’t home anymore. Just being there gave your chest a heavy feeling. If you did stay, making Erik leave would be another fight that you just didn’t have the energy for. In so many ways you found home in Erik, yet that was gone too.  Your very concept of home washed away like sandcastles to a tide.

        You didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. You were too deep into your thoughts. You opted to start over.  This was your decision. You could go back to work and find a new place to call home. You could figure out how to create a new normal for you and Iman. But how you would deal with two kids under two years old alone? What if you were pregnant with twins? That would be like God playing some type of sick joke on you. You bit your bottom lip using your thumb to hastily wipe way a single stray tear, before refocusing on the road. Whatever the future circumstance would be you couldn’t worry about it. You had to deal with your problems in the right now.

Tag List: @yoyolovesbucky @beaut1fulone-blog @sarcastic-sunshines

If I forgot to tag you and you asked, I’m soo sorry!

[aphalleos]

Unexpected Pregnancy: Sweden x Alleos

Kinda based on a convo I had regarding if Alleos got pregnant with @darkest-shadows-of-scandinavia . Hilda wouldn’t be happy and would go to all sorts of extremes to avoid having a child.

1258 words, and there is essentially suicide in this!

Hilda was in tears. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. She looked down to the little device in her hands and broke down again. Throwing the device across the room, she rested her head in her knees and sobbed. This didn’t go unnoticed; a special someone who had been making his way specifically to check on her had heard the sobbing. That someone was Berwald. Knowing something was up, he entered the room without hesitation.

“Hilda?” said Berwald urgently. Sitting next to her on the bed, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. “Hilda, please tell me what’s wrong. This isn’t like you at all.” The whole Nordic family was well aware that she hadn’t been feeling the best as of late-- vomiting frequently, fatigue before her watch would reach low charge, headaches, violent mood swings… things of the like. Initially, it was assumed that Eduard was attacking her again. However, deep in her heart Hilda knew damn well it was something more.

Reluctantly, Hilda moved from his arms and over to the wall where the device hit. Then she went to the trash can to retrieve a few more similar devices, and soon enough Berwald was able to put together what they were. Those devices she held were none other than pregnancy tests. Mouth agape and eyes wide, he looked up to Hilda, who handed the devices over. “Read them.”

Berwald’s hands were trembling as he took the devices, and surely enough-- they were positive. “Hilda, I…” Berwald, on one hand, really wanted to start a family of his own with the woman he loved. However, he knew Hilda didn’t like kids. She was awkward enough around Peter and Erland as it was, but maybe now that she was going to have her own that would change?

“This… this is the worst thing that could happen. I fear it would be too late to abort it.”

His heart dropped. “Well, why don’t we go to a doctor before assuming anything?”

To the suggestion, Hilda nodded desperately. Without hesitation, Berwald went off to make an appointment, just for the very next day.

FFW to after the appointment…

Now Hilda was a complete and total mess. The doctor had confirmed that yes, she was pregnant, and she was too far along to abort it. For Hilda, that only meant one thing-- she would have to deal with the physical trauma it would cause to her body to deliver it. Not to mention how mentally fucked up she already was from all of this…

Without another word, she stormed past the family before anybody could ask what was up, entering the little pocket world and travelling from Copenhagen to Alleos with ease.

“Is she okay?!” Matthias asked urgently. He was about to go after Hilda, but Berwald quickly grabbed a hold of his arm.

“Leave her be. She… she needs some time alone.”

Matthias heaved a heavy sigh. Hilda could be a handful, but he felt the need to know what was going on. “Fine. Just… please tell me what’s going on. She’s my kid after all, I just need to make sure she’s okay.”

Berwald hesitated, but eventually spoke up. It was important that the whole family understand why she was in such a terrible place at the moment. “To keep it short… she’s pregnant. She didn’t know how far along she was until today, and she doesn’t want to keep it. But… it’s too late to do anything about it.”

This left the whole family crushed and speechless. Everybody stared at Berwald, unable to find anything to say.

FFW a few days-- with Hilda…

Hilda was in a bit of an emotional frenzy. Well, reasonably so-- she valued her life as it was. To have a child, especially when she was so young, was a nightmare come true for her. Why did she have to be one of the unfortunate few to not even know she was pregnant until it was too late?!

Already, the stress had become too much. She couldn’t take this, and there was no way in hell she’d be able to live with knowing that she destroyed her body for something she didn’t even want. Hell, as far as she knew, she couldn’t have even gotten pregnant!

Her mind was racing, until she made it to her office. Her gaze fell onto that one sacred area-- the networking closet. With no hesitation, she made her way over and signed into the client computer. With just a little bit of tweaking, she was able to disable all firewalls and antivirus, leaving the network completely vulnerable. With her heart pounding and adrenaline pumping through her body, she then used her personal computer to sign into a few… more than shady websites, posting the IP address and other network credentials. She informed people to attack the network with whatever they had; preferably something so devastating that would damage the network beyond repair. Seeing as she was cyber based, this really was the only way for her to go.

People jumped on the opportunity as she expected, and she laid down on the couch as she waited. It didn’t take long at all for the pain to begin hitting her-- and by god it was excruciating. Immediately, she recoiled, curling up into a ball as she hissed in pain. Tears had already sprung up to her eyes and started dripping from them. The pain was like no other she’d ever felt. However, she remained almost completely silent. She just… writhed in the pain, right there on her couch. Her phone rang and buzzed with calls and texts, but just like the last few days she blatantly ignored it all.

It didn’t take long at all for a sense of peace to wash over her, and her body relaxed. Her mind went just about completely blank, and she knew the feeling-- everything was being erased entirely. The network and its data would soon enough cease to exist.

With Berwald...

Berwald could feel in his bones that something was up. He’d called and texted Hilda almost endlessly during the last few days. And, as she usually did when she was having a bit of an episode, she refused to answer or even read anything. It was only this fateful day Berwald just knew something was wrong-- perhaps fatally wrong. He spoke no words as he exited the estate, rushing over to Alleos and near breaking the door in with ease. There he found his Hilda on the couch, looking spaced out as ever.

Oh no.

He could already tell this wasn’t good.

“Hilda…?” his quiet voice rumbled as he made his way over. He touched her hand, and she just barely gazed over to him.

“Ber… I’m sorry…” her voice trailed off, and her eyes fluttered shut. Like that, the server was just… completely dead. It had been destroyed beyond repair and then it just ceased to exist.

Berwald just remained in his position, completely at a loss and in shock. She was once as happy as she could have been with the Nordics, and he knew her too well to know that she really did go out of her way to cause this. Entirely out of the fear of having a child…

Berwald began crying, and boy the tears showed no damn sign of stopping. Now he was in pain, and it was like no pain he’d ever felt before. That said a lot considering how long he’d been around for.

“Hilda, I’m sorry.”

[thehomierobbstark]

HC/ y/n is mad at Erik cause he did something dumb and he’s trying to make it up to her “kiss me like you mean it “

Shame [Prelude] // Communication [Part II] //  In The Cut [Side Story]

A/N: So I have an inkling who might’ve asked this question *cough @wakanda-inspired cough* but I hope this turned out the way you were hoping anon!

I wanted to get something out for Valentines Day while I’m working on other stuff, and this isn’t part of it but don’t forget to check out the With Love, From Wakanda Fic Fest that @purple-apricots and @hoopshoney are hosting.  @wawakanda-btch posted the first one I’ve seen so far and and I’m super excited about it.

Anyway, I know some peeps do celebrate Valentines Day and some don’t, but I just wanted to dedicate this fic out to all of yall.  I know I write Erik in super cheesy n corny ways sometimes, but we all deserve to have people in our life who will take the time to learn us authentically.  Romantic or otherwise.  Hope yall like it!

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!!  x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sigh, crossing your arms as you lazily trail out in front of the rest of the group, feet moving slowly as you put one foot in front of the other and attempt to walk in a straight line, if for no other purpose than for your own personal enjoyment.  You were pretty through with the night, but you didn’t want to rush along anyone and risk dampening the fun mood, so you tried occupying yourself as best you could to keep from sending out the wrong vibrations.

You feel the presence come up next to you before it makes itself known, but you ignore it, choosing to feign ignorance instead of acknowledging it with your usual situational awareness.

The presence lingers for a moment, waiting for you to notice it, but when you don’t it inches a little closer, nudging its shoulder against yours with a light tap, the spot where it touches you feeling tingly.

“So, how’d you like the movie?” He asks you, and you glance up at him, seeing his eyes lit up and full of interest.

“It was ok.” You answer flatly, shrugging your shoulders, and those eyebrows of his hike up, not expecting your nonchalance.  

“Oh.”

It was an honest answer.  The movie was just OK. Even though it wasn’t just the movie you were expecting more out of tonight.

You divert your attention back down to your feet, indulging again in your own little game of ‘Walk the Plank’. The presence next to you grows quiet again, and you know he’s observing you, trying to figure out what’s going through that head of yours.  

It doesn’t phase you, already knowing that whatever emotions you had you didn’t wear them on your face.

Luckily, you were hard to read like that.

This was the second time-

*Correction*, the third time that the both of you had hung out this week with your friends, and you were starting to get the feeling that maybe there was something happening between the two of you.  

At least, that’s what you thought… up until tonight.

“Everything okay?”

You can hear the hint of worry hiding somewhere behind his words, and part of you wants to just drop it and chalk your mood up to being tired or something.

You nod your head, shrugging your shoulders again, eyes focused somewhere on the floor.

Don’t be petty. Don’t be petty. Don’t be petty.

You lift your head and look him in the eyes, smiling.  

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He returns the smile, visibly relaxing now, diverting his own eyes to the floor now as he chews on his lip.

You quirk an eyebrow, watching him, and open up your mouth again.

“So where’s your friend at?”

Fuck.

The sound that comes out of his mouth is something between a choke and a snort, and he brings a fist up to his mouth to clear his throat before looking back your way.

The smile is still plastered on your face, but not an evil one, just…friendly.  Weirdly friendly.

You can see his eyes squint a little as he quickly studies your face, trying to figure you out, but there’s nothing to see except what appears to be your innocent smile.

“You, you mean Clarissa?” His voice almost cracks at the end as he points a thumb back in the direction of your friend group, referring to it’s newest blonde member, but you don’t even bother to look.

You know who she is.

“Oh? Is that her name?” The charade you’re putting on sounds so real you almost believe it yourself for a second, and you have to drag your attention back to the conversation at hand to keep from verbally patting yourself on the back.

“Clarissa?” You repeat (for clarification, of course), and the name sounds harsh and abrasive in your mouth, but that doesn’t keep you from saying it with perfect pronunciation.

“Yeah, yeah no she’s back there chillin, I guess.” It’s his turn to shrug now, and he almost acts as if he didn’t spend the entire movie sitting right next to her. While you were all the way on the other side.

Out of the group, you and Erik were the only single people, and while you usually hated it when your friends’ boyfriends tried to set you up, you liked Erik.

He’d just happened to be back in town the same week his boy had made plans, so it wasn’t like he was there for you.He was just… there too.

But you’d clicked instantly.

The whole night you and Erik had been hanging together, picking right up where you’d left off from the other night.

Then Clarissa showed up.

Your voice keeps its same curious tone, and you press on.  Not to make him uncomfortable or anything, but just to…understand better.  After all, it’s not like the two of you were dating or anything, you were just friends.

Friends were allowed to be curious, right?

Maybe the feeling you thought you had between the two of you was wrong.

“Oh, OK.” You say, and silence falls between the two of you again for a moment as you reach the double door exit of the movie theater.  He opens the right side, holding it for you, and you brush past his chest a little as you walk out.  

You can feel the solid muscle resting underneath his sweatshirt and smell the scent of his body wash, and before you can let yourself get distracted by it you accidentally blurt out your next sentence more aggressively than you wanted to.

“Umm, you can go hang out with her if you want, you know.  You don’t have to be up here with me.” You word vomit, and you squeeze your eyes shut, mentally face palming.  

So much for trying to be subtle.

“What?” He walks out behind you, letting the doors shut, but you don’t stop walking, not wanting to have to look him in the face.

Your feet unwittingly stop in their tracks after a few steps and you blow out a sigh, your body betraying your urge to flee. “I mean…”

You scratch at the back of your head, gathering up all your courage to deal with the dumbass situation you’ve just put yourself in.

“…don’t feel obligated to be up here with me.  If you wanna go be with her that’s okay-”

“Be with her? Who said I wanted to be with her?” He interrupts you, and you open your eyes to see he’s standing in front of you now, eyebrows scrunched in confusion and what looks like frustration.

Shit. You so didn’t mean for it to go this way.

“Nobody! I’m just, I’m just saying that if you wanted to you could-”

“Y/n.”  He stops you again, but this time when you look up at him his face is oddly calm, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth barely hidden by his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

You don’t say anything at first, but when he raises his eyebrows at you as if to repeat himself, a small ‘yeah’ escapes your lips.

“…Are you …jealous?”  You can hear the teasing lilt in his voice, and your face deadpans, your feet working again as you stomp past him.

Jealous? You? Please.  You’d sooner watch the original ‘Birth of a Nation’ than ever let anything that girl says or does intimidate you.  You knew your self worth, and you’d rather die alone than let any man think you’d waste your time competing for his attention.

You can hear his boisterous laughter behind you, and you quicken your pace, but you don’t get very far before you feel his arm wrap around your waist and pull you back, feeling the deep rumbling emanating from his chest.

“Alright alright ma, damn, I was just joking.  Where you think you going anyway? We all drove together.”  He wraps his other arm around you to keep you in place, emphasizing his words.

“I got Lyft, I’m good.” You sniff back, and he kisses his teeth, dragging you both backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of one of the patio tables, and he lifts the both of you onto it to sit, you on his lap.

You sit there stubbornly for a few moments, and when he realizes you’re not going to speak he rolls his eyes, breaking the silence.

“So you gon tell me wassup, or what? Why you acting like this, babygirl?”  His voice is soft but stern, and you stir a little in his arms at the pet name.

“I’m not acting like anything,” you try and disagree, but your words sound distant and clouded in your ears, losing some of their bite.

He sighs patiently behind you, leaning forward to tighten his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You can feel him looking at you, and you turn your head away, staring through a hole in the grated table to the ground.  

“… I’m trying, okay? Just… give me a second.” Your voice is just above a whisper, but he still hears what you say.

“I know,” he presses a kiss into your shoulder through you sweater, and he lays his head there.  “Take your time.”

You take a few beats to gather your thoughts, mulling them over in your mind a few times to make sure you’ll be able to say it right.

When you’re finally ready, you turn around a little to sit sideways in his lap, still facing away from him as you rest your head on his chest.

Taking a deep breath, you finally let it all out.

“Look…all I’m saying is if you’re interested in other people, that’s okay.  It’s not like we’re together or anything, all we did was share one kiss.  You’re free to do whatever you want and so am I, there’s no commitment here.”

A dry laugh that comes out as a sniff blows out through your nose, those shoulders of yours shrugging again as you try and crack a joke.

“It’s not like you live in California.”

Your last sentence hangs in the air for a bit, and when Erik doesn’t say anything, your heart starts skipping beats.  

Shit, was he offended?  You didn’t mean to offend him.  All you were trying to do was be honest…and keep your heart safe.

“Erik?” You wait a second for his response, but when it doesn’t come you turn your head to look at him.

His eyes are downcast, and a small smile plays on his lips.

“Do you think I just go around kissing strangers, Y/N?”

The question catches you off guard, and when he lifts his head to look at you, you don’t know what to say.

“Do I seem like the type of person who would kiss random people just for the hell of it?”

Well, it didn’t seem like he was the type.

“…no.”

“Then why would I kiss you and go be interested in someone else? You are the person I’m interested in, Y/N.  It’s you.”

You want to say something back to him, but when you open your mouth, an emotion you can’t place starts creeping up your throat, paralyzing you.

“Listen… that… ‘thing’ at the movies… trust me, ya boy not interested.  I was trying to get back over to you but ol’ girl couldn’t take a hint.  Figured I’d just be polite and let her sit next to me during the movie.  It’s not like it’s her I’ll be calling anyway when I get back home tonight.”

He flashes that knee weakening smile at you, his golds peeking out, and you roll your eyes, pushing at his chest.

“So what you tryna say? You got hoes now?”  You joke, and he fake groans in annoyance before grabbing you up in a gentle headlock, pressing kisses to your temple as you squeal and struggle.

“You so annoying, I swear,” he grumbles, and after you calm down he releases you and cups your chin in his fingers, angling your face towards his.

“Gimme kiss,” he mumbles, and you lean up a little, pressing your lips flat against his for a soft lazy smooch.

“Mmmm,” he moans against your lips .“Mm Mm.”  He detaches from you.  

“Nah,” his full lips poke out in a pout. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

Blushing, you smooth your hand against the back of his head and pull him into you, lips parting to accept his full, juicy ones between yours, both your tongues poking out to taste each other.

He sighs in contentment into your mouth, and his hands latch onto your soft waist as he takes over the kiss, letting his tongue roll against yours.

Leaning into him you wrap your arms around his neck, breaking the rough kiss to give him gentle teasing pecks that make him whine from the back of his throat.

“Fuck, you’re making me miss you already,” He whispers into your skin, nudging his face down into the crook of your neck and taking a huge inhale.  

It sends sparks across your skin, and when he groans hungrily at your scent you can feel the vibration in your whole body, making you clench in different places.

You both get lost in euphoria until a loud voice from a ways away grabs your attention.

“Uhh… y’all ready to go?” You rise out of your blissed state as you pull away from Erik, looking around dazedly to find the source.

You spot Rashad, Erik’s friend, looking curiously at you two from his spot across the patio, and the rest of your group behind him snickering childishly, including Clarissa.

“Yeah bro we comin!” Erik yells back, all his attention still on you.

“Well meet you there,” he mutters, not really caring if his friend heard or not, and he buries his face into your neck, growling and fake munching on your skin as your laughter fills the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: CollegeBoi!Erik, Softboi!Erik, Fluff,

[purplesurveys]

698

3 words that describe...

Your personality: (A bit) aloof, sensitive, and shy.

Your friends: Loud, laidback, cheeky.

Your family: Emotionally distant, (mostly) religious. I’m cheating so much on this looooool.

Your life: Right now? Put on hold. Thanks, coronavirus.

Your current mood: Hungry, and irritated eyes.

Your dreams/goals in life: Ok three words will be too short for this so I’ll just enumerate three whole phrases: I’d like to have a job that pays well, get a house that doesn’t have to be huge, but it has to come with features I’ve always wanted like cove lights and a yard for the kids and dog to play in, and get settled.

Your partner/boyfriend/girlfriend (if you have one): Funny, intelligent, courageous.

The person you last talked to: Brave, considerate, responsible.

The room that you are currently in: Comfortable, well-lit, homey.

The world in your perspective: Many stupid humans.

Yes/No questions...

Are you creative? Absolutely not. I like doing the logical/rational side of things... I let others take care of creative aspects, if they have to be present.

Do you like spending a sunny day outdoors? NO, unless I’m at the beach then sunny is the only way to go. Otherwise I’d rather be indoors or somewhere air-conditioned thx.

Do you get upset easily or over the littlest things? I can be. It’s usually when I’m already stressed/antsy enough, or if I’m on my period.

Do you dislike any of the people in charge of you (i.e: teachers, bosses)? I don’t particularly dislike my prof in my Rizal course but he sure teaches like he doesn’t want to be there. I just haven’t been getting the enthusiasm off of him, and that’s really important to me when it comes to being interested in my subjects. Oh but my PE coach this sem is a bitch - one time I forgot to wear the shirt color she demands us to follow and she ignored me for the entire period. Quickest way to make me feel shitty. So yeah. Probably her.

Do you like to read books/magazines/newspapers? I like books only if they’re non-fiction. I...don’t really read magazines anymore, and I kinda have to check into newspapers from time to time because I take up journalism.

Are you family-oriented? Towards my girlfriend’s family, yeah. I don’t really care about being family-oriented for my own.

Have you ever been friends with someone in the past out of sympathy? Yeah, this girl named MJ in Grade 7. She was a new-ish student then and no one was approaching her, so Gab and I tried to befriend her for a time. Didn’t really pan out that well - we just didn’t mesh - so we stopped talking not long after.

Do/did you ever get nervous around people you are/were crushing on? I still do.

Do you believe in global warming? Duh.

Are you happy with the way society/the world in general is? I’m typically pessimistic when it comes to people, so no not really. I just feel like the bad news always overweigh the good these days - and while good news can serve as rays of sunshine sometimes, I’d rather face reality than live in my own bubble and choose to be oblivious to all the shitstorms happening around me.

Do you ever question your own religion/beliefs? I did, as early as when I was 10. The Bible just didn’t make sense to me to my frustration, and I’ve always felt disgusted with my school guilt-tripping us to be good people because a man got crowned with thorns and nailed to a giant cross. I figured I can be good simply because I choose to, so I let go of my Catholic roots quickly after. Having no friends that time surely forced me to think hahahahahahaha jk 1/2

This/That...

Do you prefer today's trends/styles, or ones from the past? Both have awesome stuff, there’s no need to pick. I’m really into the mom jeans of the 90s, but I also like the yellow trend that’s been going on recently.

Being too cold or too hot? I’d rather be shivering but be comforted with a thick blanket, than sweat bullets and have absolutely no way to cool myself down.

Uploading music to your iPod, or buying CDs? Depends. I used to buy the CDs of my favorite artists then just download the other music I’m not as passionate about.

Fruits or vegitables? VEGETABLESSSSSSSSSSSS. I hate fruits.

Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate, for the most part. Vanilla tastes like nothing to me. Baseball or football? I don’t watch either and I probably won’t enjoy either either lmao, but I have a bias towards football because my girlfriend’s sisters play the sport. The mall with a bunch of little stores, or one single, big store? Malls kinda work differently here... they’re all one big building with a bunch of restaurants, clothing shops, sports shops, novelty stores, etc. Rap music or rock and roll? Not a big fan of either but I’d go with rock and roll I guess. I like some rap but none of them make me feel things, which rock can sometimes do for me. Roller skates or roller blades? I owned a pair of roller blades when I was 10 and had fun memories with it even though I never did learn how to do it properly. Horror movies that give you nightmares, or romance that makes you vomit? Horror for sure. I don’t even like romance-only movies; they have to be laced with a lot of comedy in between for me to enjoy them. Making more friends or making more money? Making more money sorry LMAOOOOOO Living it up and being stupid, or being safe and never pay the price? I’d always rather be safe. I hate getting reprimanded or caught doing something bad or being punished. Doing more of the talking, or more of the listening in a conversation? Listening, please. I don’t like having the attention on me for too long. Giving or receiving? Giving I guess? I always have a pretty good sense of what my loved ones need, and it’s always nice to see how good they feel when I give it to them. Cats or dogs? Dogs. Playing on the swingsets or the slides (as a kid)? Swings. I was traumatized by one slide when I was 6 because it was apparently blistering hot when I slid down from it, and it almost burned my butt off lmao.

Would you rather...

Bolding these because I’m lazy.

Live off of just food for 2 days, or just beverage for 2 days?

Tell a lie and be believable, or tell the truth and still be blamed?

Die at 65 with the love of your life, or live to 85 being single?

Fart and be heard from far away or fart and be smelled from far away?

Be tickled for an hour straight or be woken up by a bucket of cold water?

Have a cabel snap while bunjee jumping or have the bar go up on a coaster?

Have a deadly plague or a nuclear bomb hit your country? (Don't get ideas!) < This is a sick question to ask these days lol. I’m not answering.

Lick a frozen telephone pole or stick your hand in dry ice? Be rejected by your favorite celebrity or by someone you secretly admire? Give up your favorite food for eternity or eat a bowl of dead spiders? Make a lot of money at a job you hate or little money at a job you love? Jump off a bridge or from a moving car? < Another sick question.

Favorites...

Color(s): Pink, sky blue, off-white.

Song(s): I don’t have one at the moment. I haven’t listened to any music in a while, save for lo-fi.

Artist(s): Beyoncé if we’re talking solo, Paramore if you mean bands.

Music genre: I don’t have a favorite one; my taste is pretty scattered.

Movie: Two for the Road or Good Will Hunting

TV show: Breaking Bad, Friends, BoJack Horseman, Queer Eye

Actor and actress: Gregory Peck; Audrey Hepburn or Kristen Stewart

Movie/TV genre: Romantic comedy or drama lmao, I’m a sappy bitch. Suspense and psychological horror are also cool.

Restarant: Yabu, Mendokoro Ramenba, or Silantro

Food: Sushi

Dessert: Macarons

Hobby: Going to museums! Or reading about the history of anything.

Activity to do out of boredom: Scroll my social media feeds orrrrrr do surveys, or watch cooking videos on YouTube heh.

Type of weather: Bleak, rainy, and chilly.

Book: I don’t have a favorite.

Subject in school: History

Item that you own: My car hahahaha

Pastime: Eating out and window shopping. Maybe I’m just saying these because I haven’t been to a mall in a while :/

Site: Palawan

Tourist attraction: I’ve always wanted to go to those towers that lets you go to the top floor and the floor is just literal glass. If I’m gonna be a tourist-y tourist, that’s the first place I’d go to haha.

Random questions in your own words...

If you could have any desired superpower, what would it be?

The history nerd in me would take up time travel in an instant. And I won’t even be using it as a superpower lmao, it’d be like a research pastime for me.

What would be your dream job?

If I wasn’t such an introvert and if I were a lot better in handling crowds, I really would have wanted to be a pro wrestler.

Descibe your dream date:

Museum in the day, cute dinner at night.

What was the best day of your life like?

I don’t know if that has happened yet.

What was the worst day of your life like?

So far my worst day was when I wasn’t accepted into my school paper in high school and I spent like 18 hours crying my eyes out. I liked writing and was accepted for my portfolio, but people thought I was too shy to fit the group’s dynamic and ended up getting booted. There are quiet writers too, assholes.

If you ever have kids one day, what you you name them?

Too early for this lol I’ve only had name picked out - Olivia.

What's one thing that will bring you out of your worst mood no matter what?

My dog. FOR SURE.

Who's the most annoying person you've ever encountered?

Jem, someone from my college who thinks she’s close with me but I really do not like her at all.

If you could grow up to be like anybody, who would it be?

I don’t believe in having role models. I just want to be the best version of myself.

If you could change something about yourself, what would it be?

My mental health could be mental healthier.

What's your favorite inspirational/famous quote? I don’t depend on these either. Describe your dream ice cream sundae (unlimited toppings): Meh, I don’t like sundaes. Just scoops would be fine with me. What comes to mind first when you think of your favorite color? I have no idea why this is what I remember, but it was the day I went shopping for school supplies and got myself a pink clipboard, pink pencil case, pink expander, and pink highlighters. I think it’s because it was that day where I had to acknowledge that pink was in fact, unironically, my favorite color HAHAHA What's something in your life that you once hated but came to like? ^ The color pink. And chicken curry. What's something in your life that you once liked but came to hate? Cooked salmon. There was one phase my mom made it almost everyday and I just got sick of it. I refuse to eat salmon to this day unless it’s sashimi or in sushi. If you could stop any chaos/problem in our world today, what would it be? This fucking pandemic. 2020 CAN’T CONTINUE BECAUSE OF YOU. What would be the best way to die, in your opinion? Peacefully, in sleep, with no pain. What would be the worst way to die? Falling off a cliff (or anywhere high) and landing on a boulder EUGH I cringe at it. Also getting impaled. AND plane crashes. If you could give your room a free makeover, what would you do to it? I’d make it look spacier by moving the bed to the wall so there’s a lot of free space in the middle. I’d also add a desk, work chair, and a lamp so I can study there. If you could have an unlimited amount of anything, what would it be? The number of years my dog would live. What's one thing that you like that would probably surprise your friends? They know I like punk rock in general but I haven’t shared any of the music with them. It would definitely surprise them. Out of everything in the world, what holds the most meaning to you? Stability.

[onepunchmiss]

OPM s2e5 Live blog

“The Martial Arts Tournament”

Alright I’m back to the regular live blog schedule and theres 2 things before we get started. 1) OH MY GOD DO-S IS THE EPISODE THUMBNAIL WE GET TO SEE ALL THE MONSTERS POPPING UP and 2) DOES THAT MEAN WE’LL SEE ZOMBIEMAN TRAILING MARTIAL GORILLA BECAUSE IF SO I sincerely apologize in advance yall must be aware by now how that’s going to go down on this blog. Anyway, as always I’m watching this from the perspective of someone who is caught up on both the manga and web comic. Los geht’s!

Yup the centipede movement is still creepy as hell. I saw people saying it was cgi last week which I didn’t catch right away, but regardless it’s done so well because it looks unnatural.

EYYYYY ok actually I kind don’t care about Metal Knight. What this episode is actually going to be is me screaming about all the monsters liKE RHINO WRESTLER AND PHOENIX MAN GUYS I LOVE THIS STUPID BIRD SO MUCH HECKING HECK. I’m gonna vomit like him and Do-S PLUS Garou vs Bat PLUS the other S Class heroes (Tatsumaki and Flashy Flash??) I am not physically mentally or emotionally prepared.

Yo this seems to be a trend with the monsters and me, I am evidently never prepared for the garish color schemes they get. Not mad just surprised every time?

hhhhhhhhhhhhh Ok the fight! I’m… I’m gonna try really hard to not pause every 2 seconds because I will inevitably have many words to say and screen grabs to take but that would be more than excessive sooooo ok here I go

Lol I failed immediately. I love that they’re going shot for shot with the fight. I’ve said it before, but I really think Murata captures movement and action sequences so well in the manga that if the anime were to try and deviate, it just wouldn’t be as good (especially with all the flack JC staff has been catching). Also I ADORE Metal Bat’s theme music when his fighting spirit comes out??? It’s so corny and triumphant and bad ass at once it fits him so well?? Ok wait a second I thought that after metal bat hit the manhole cover it ricocheted and came back at Garou what the heck??? That was such a cool move on Bat’s part and demonstrates he’s not just brute force, but tactical too. Why’d they leave that out??OH COME ON THEY DID WHAT THE HELL WHERE IS THIS??

This is actually my least favorite thing about season 2 biggest complaint what the fuck they did my boy dirty here. Oh thank god Zenko is here to quell my anger. Also Bat’s glowing eyes of murderous intent. Look at her. A legend.

Garou: “...haa?” Yup still love his voice actor. Perfection. Also Zenko. Just. Metal Bat and Zenko. Moshi moooshi? Just. This whole thing was almost perfect. So close. The fight felt so short, and it was because they cut out some good stuff. So close to perfection uhg

AH MY STUPID BIRD MAN he sounds exactly like what I wanted him to I’m so glad and HAH the fuckin hand I forgot about that. Side note, Anyone else play Arkham Asylum? The monster association logo looks like Scarecrow’s symbol in that game…. ANYWAY I need to take a moment to appreciate that little Phoenixman chuckle it was hella cute ok

Rh-Rhino Wrestler basically just said “Then Perish”

Oh Fuck

Oh God

Martial Gorilla  

Oh fuck

O H F UK

oh false alarm im ok my heart rate skyrocketed for nix Oh Maiko Plasma!! I love her voice wtf its cute? Phew ok the tournament. Wait that’s not giving me a break either because MAX AND SNEK M A X AND SN EK

I love him and his stupid hair omg. I’m REALLY hoping that the anime branching out and giving other characters more spotlight will help them grow in popularity a bit. Every single character in this series is underrated imo. Even the popular ones like geNOS LOOKIT HIM clapping for his sensei. Genos is baby boy I lov

“Dark Corporeal Fist?” Isn’t Void Fist just easier to say? really now. Oh My God Sourface chanting “I’m ok I’m ok I’m ok” is literally my daily Mood™. Damn look at Bang taking out some frustration I’d hate to be that monster. Me too my dude Smile Man.

WHOA I was NOT expecting that transition!! Heart! Hard! HIT! It’s the Monster Wife!! And She definitely looks more monstrous in color oof those eyes ❤❤

OH FUCK OH GOD WAIT MARTIAL GORILLA AGAIN DAMN IT I WISH I REMEMBERED EXACTLY WHEN Z SHOWS UP MY BLOOD PRESSURE CANT TAKE THIS ofuck ok false alarm again but I’m low key freaking out as they pan through all the monsters because the S Class is so close like we’re about to get Child Emperor, Flashy Flash, Pig God, Drive Knight, Darkshine and so on who got next to no screen time in season 1 its giving me anxiety im so pumped??

OH FUCK GUYS PUREBLOOD OH SHIT FUCK I FORGOT WE SEE HIM THIS EARLY CAUSE HIS DESIGN KEPT CHANGING he looks stupid with his hair behind his ears and his voice is NOT what I imagined and that manga panel redraw I did was way off with the color scheme but I don’t care I have read and re-read that fight countless times this monster just grew on me by default oh no UHG and look at Super S again it looks like they’re going panel for panel here with her and I’m not complaining

They keep hopping to the tournament but I don’t have much to say about it until the shit starts going down….. and like I’m so excited for that Snek and Max moment (you know the one) but until then I’m just so overwhelmed by all the other plotlines happening I don’t have much in the way of comments for it

I lied ok that eye twitch got me. But see then it cuts away too quickly and the episode is over. I get that there’s a lot happening at once but the tournament feels dragged out a bit. It’s different when you read the manga at your own pace but cmonnnnnnnnnnnnn gimme moreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

HAH THANK YOU POST CREDIT STINGER YOU DELIVERED MY WISHES AND ZAKKOS IS SOME WEAK SAUCE.

NEXT WEEK GUYS ITS HAPPENING

Final thoughts. Um. I wish the Garou vs. Metal Bat was a tad longer just for that ONE moment. I’m still heartbroken over it. But otherwise? I’m so excited for next week, I can’t convey my excitement without being excessively obnoxious? this episode was pure hype. There are no buts about it- we are getting the S Class next week. I… think I’m going to leave work at noon to catch the episode right when it airs. I was saving that for an episode with Z but I don’t think I’ll be able to function at work if I stay. At this point every character is a fave and now we’re getting all of them, I feel so overloaded and we haven’t even seen anything yet. I don’t know what to even say about the future of these crap ass live blogs- they have no structure as it stands right now, but like they are going to devolve into just me screaming. Not even real words. just something like keyboard smashing and tears, probably. I’m so sorry, but anyway, as always thanks for reading, see yall next week assuming I survive

[littleliv1]

Too Much Love Will Kill You- Brian May

A/n: sooooo. I had this idea. I have some ideas for how this could go, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’ve looked absolutely everywhere for a little while now and couldn’t find any stories that were like this one, so yeah, I hope I’m not steeling anyone’s ideas. Idk if this will be a one shot, a few parts, or an actual fic, I guess it just depends. We will see :D also sorry for not being able to put “read more” and my docs just taking up space, my laptop finally died

Summary: You were at a concert with your girlfriends to see the band Queen. You fell in love with their music, and had taken a liking to the guitarist, Brian. You had met them a few times, seeing them at parties of mutual friends, etc.

Warnings: an affair, kissing, a lot of angst, sex, smoking weed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were with Emi, your best friend since birth, at Queens concert. They were on The Magic Tour, so it was formally named, in the name of their latest album A Kind Of Magic. As the end of the night neared, they closed out with One Vision. You and Emi sang the lyrics as loud as you could. Because of your wealth, you got front row seats. This rewarded you to make prolonged eye contact with Brian. The whole time. You had been making flirty eyes at him, unintentionally but also intentionally, but he didn’t seem to mind, it only made him go harder. You all waited for rows to clear so you could be escorted out, meeting up with Emi’s “secret” boy hot, David Bowie. He was handsome to say the least, you only wish you’d have nabbed him before she did, but she really liked him. “Ready to drink our body weights?” I asked her, she giggled, nodding her head. She had short black hair that she wore in a bob. She always smelled like David, only you knew what went on behind closed doors.

About an hour later, you arrived to the after party. Things were going well, but no sign of that tall brunette. You found a few friends, and started drinking. It was a good time. You all talked about nothing, and everything. That ended as soon as someone whipped out karaoke. You couldn’t resist when they started playing your favorite songs, but you took over when they started playing I Want To Break Free by Queen. Emi couldn’t help but to die of laughter, throwing dollar bills at you, as you jokingly stripped off your jacket. But, how embarrassing is it when the writers of the song come waltzing in? Your drunken self didn’t care, but you knew your sober self sure as hell would. But, you’ve put that bad boy to bed three drinks ago. As you finished, the boys clapped for you, laughing. “Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all night!" You said, bowing. “What a mess you are, (y/n)!" Emi said, clinging on to David. “I don’t get embarrassed anymore, love," you stated. It’s true, you didn’t. You do dumb shit but you own it.

You walked over to Brian and Freddie, holding you third martini of the night. “Loved your show tonight!” You stated, louder than intended. “We could say the same about you, darling!” Freddie said, hugging you and kissing your cheek. “Marvelous to see you again, thought after your last album took off you wouldn’t be caught dead at our concert!” He said. You threw your head back in a sarcastic laugh. “Ha! Sweetheart I wouldn’t be caught dead doing a lot of things. Never in my life will I ever be shamed of seeing my favorite rock band!” You said, playfully and drunkenly punching his arm. You turned to Brian. “And how are you? Haven’t heard from you in a while,” you said, sipping your drink. He smirked, taking a pint of lager from a Roger. “Good, Good. Can’t complain,” he said. He looked over at the stand, and nudged you to look over. You did, finding Emi singing Fat Bottom Girls. You could have doubled over in laughter as she walked over to you, slapping your bum at the lyric “You make the rockin world go round!” You giggled a bit to this. You were busy with your friend that you couldn’t have noticed how Brian was completely lusting over you. He’s always loved how you were so outgoing. Chrissie would never embarrass herself like that. She was never one to be outgoing and crazy, that’s why she never went to any after parties, even before the kids.

“I need a smoke,” you said, digging in your purse, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. “Anyone like to join?” You asked, holding them out. “I’m okay, I just got back from smoking one,” Roger said. Brian stood, taking one. “I’ll join,” he said. You both walked into the cool, winter air, as you lit the cigarettes. “I don’t think I’ll be going home with anyone anymore, Emis probably run off with- someone.” You said, stopping yourself, remembering how no one can know about David and Emi. Little did you know, Brian knew you had to stop yourself from saying a specific someone, and he wanted to know. “Who is she with?” He asked you, you giggled because you knew something that someone else didn’t. “I can’t tell you!” You said. Your giggle made him smile, as he held your elbows when you leaned into him while giggling. He looked away, debating on the comment he was about to make as he licked his lips slightly, biting his bottom lip. “Secret for a secret?” He said. Now that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. “Hmmmhmhm,” you giggled into your mouth. You pulled his frow down, finding his ear, causing him to laugh because, well, you were a bit shorter than him, even in your heels. “She’s secretly dating David Bowie,” you said, placing a finger on your lips, shushing him. “It’s a secret and no one can know!” You said quietly, releasing hair. He looked inside to the two, now understanding as he nodded. “Nice,” He said. You poked at his belly, teasingly. “Your turn!” You said. He flicked his cigarette. “How drunk are you?” He asked. “I’m conscious, but I cannot drive myself home.” You said with a straight face, your total mood change earning a laugh from him. “Now tell me,” you slightly whispered. “I’m,” He started, letting out a small ‘I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this’ laugh. “I’m very attracted to you,” He said, having no regards for his wife and kids. He couldn’t hold it back, but he couldn’t help how he was feeling. But a bubble of regret comes over his body, as he sees you go sober immediately. Your eyes pierced into his, your lips slightly parted, taken a back. You were at a loss of words. As soon as you were about to say something, John walked out. “They’ve got a cake, Brian! It has our names on it! Come see!” He said, pulling Brian inside.

The end of the night rolled around, and you were drunk once again, but now with a belly full of cake. “Still drunk?" Brian asked from behind you, your conversation was hours ago and you hadn’t talked to him since. You turned to face him, nodding your head, showing him your glass of what-ever-was-handed-to-you. He smiled, looking down. “Let me drive you home, make sure you get home alright, Emi left hours ago.” He said, you chugged the rest of the glass, nodding your head. You didn’t look too bad for being very drunk. Things were blurry, but you still knew what was going on. But about half way through the night, you took of your heels and you’re pretty sure you made out with a groupie. He drove you home. You lived about 35 minutes away, but he drove kind of slower so that you didn’t vomit. He pulled into the drive way, running to your side and let you out, walking you inside. “Thanks, for taking me home,” You said, the drive had given you some time to calm down, you didn’t feel as drunk anymore. But damn were you hungry. “I have left over pizza, if you want to join, as a thank you for making sure I don’t die,” you tried to crack a joke, hoping it wouldn’t make things awkward. He looked at his watch. He could stay for a bit, he thought to himself. It wouldn’t hurt to eat. It was 3 am. “I’d love to.” He smiled, causing you to smile. You opened the fridge to a full box of pizza. “I always order some before parties, I usually wind up home alone, I like eating cold pizza at times like that,” You said, leaning on the island in your kitchen, taking a bite of it. He took a piece, eating it with you, leaning back on the counter. “So, what you told me before,” you said. Someone had to address the elephant in the room. “Were you just really drunk? Or do you actually,” You said, motioning to him. He nodded his head. “I do actually,” he repeated the motion you had made. You look at his hand, with a ring. He’s married, you thought to yourself.

‘Nothing can happen, (y/n), don’t try.’

You both sat there, eating your food, thinking to yourself. He had felt like this for so long, he wanted you for so long. It got to the point where he had to drink before making love to his wife, so he had the chance of seeing you instead. He hated himself for it. For feeling this way about someone else. He knew Chrissie deserved better. He couldn’t fight the feeling in his stomach. The kind of feeling that forced him to move near you. You had always been attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? On nights where you came home alone, you had only dreamed of waking up next to him. There felt like a magnet in your belly that was pulling you to him; the kind of magnet that you couldn’t fight even if you tried, and you were. You tried to plant your feet, until you noticed him moving closer. You went to grab a piece of pizza, to try and disguise it. Soon enough, your faces were so close. You were both mentally begging the other to close the gap. So you wouldn’t be in the wrong. But when you both took a deep breath, the kind of deep breath the fills your belly and chest, you both took that as the other going in. As he grabbed your face, you wrapped your arms around his neck, and your lips met. It was a kiss full of list, desire, and passion.

The kiss that lasted but a moment, felt like a lifetime; or at least you wanted this for a lifetime. You were the one to pull away, looking up at him with lustfilled eyes. It was more than just list, however. There were feelings. Feelings that you didn’t know you could feel for someone. Feelings that he had bottled up for so long. You opened your mouth to speak, but what you were trying to say, you didn’t know. He gripped your hips, pulling you in for another kiss, this one deeper than the last. You were pushing against eachother so desperate to be closer to the other. But he was stronger, as you felt yourself walking backwards. This had continued until you were in your room.

Your house was very simple, yet cute, but not too girly. You had a lot of patterned pillows, soft lights hanging from the celling, almost hippy like, your home was. It was cozy. Your mother always told you about how crystals can heal a hurt Ora, or a happy environment could give you good vibes. Your bedroom wasn’t any different. As you stepped in, you kicked the door shut, in case Emi walked in, not that she would at this hour, but just in case. He started to kiss down your neck, cocking your head to the side. You could see in the mirror what was happening, Brian’s face tucked into the crook of your neck, your lipstick smeared, as it was all over Brian’s mouth. Your lips felt swollen, along with other parts. Your hair was a wreck, as it had his hands tangled into it. You couldn’t help but to feel like he might have been thinking about his wife, maybe he was so drunk that he thinks you’re her. But how could he have driven so well? You tried to think about any excuse possible that could explain why this was happening. That is until he noticed the stress in your eyes. “Are you okay? Do you not like it?” He asked. He was worried, not only did he know how completely shitty this all was, but he didn’t want to displease you. You nodded your head. “No, yes I’m okay, and you’re doing great, wonderful even. But, what about Christie?” You asked him, his hands around your waist and your hands pressed against his chest. He looked down.

“Maybe you’re right,” He said. He sat on the edge of your bed. “Things just aren’t going well. She doesn’t talk to me anymore, not in the same way at least. After we got married it was like she became a whole new person. She hardly ever wanted to go out, she just. Wasn’t who I thought I was marrying.” He said. You had to feel sympathetic for him. That situation must suck, you thought. You sat next to him in the bed, rubbing his arm. “It’s okay, you can talk about it,” you say. You just wanted him to be alright, even if it meant you didn’t have relations with him. He looked to you, lust in his deep eyes.

He gripped your face. Maybe it was the euphoric feeling he gave you to be with him, in this way. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was your sleep deprivation kicking in. But the next while, you couldn’t remember. But you know it was full of passion. It wasn’t just dirty and messy, how his hips snapped to yours, he cradled you and placed sweet-like-candy kisses to your face and neck and all over your body. Also not forgetting to place sweet bruises on your neck and chest and tummy. You felt like being with him was like being on cloud nine. You felt like you were floating.

About an hour after you all had finished, you couldn’t sleep. How could you? You were now apart of an affair. What hurt was that you didn’t know if he’d ever talk to you again. But what hurt worse than that was that you felt like that. You knew he was going to chose his wife of many years over someone younger. Not by much, but he may think that you’re just a twinkie. Nothing more. Next thing you knew, you woke up. When you fell asleep, you weren’t sure. And looking over, he was gone.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @magicmagnus!

Read on AO3

*****

this year, i'll give it to someone special.

The morning of December 16th is one of those mornings.

First of all, Magnus sleeps through his alarm.  Then the hot water doesn’t work in the shower so his hair is absolutely not standing up to the best of its potential, and he cuts his finger chopping up fruit for breakfast, and the only band-aids he has are pink Barbie ones, and his car won’t start for five whole minutes because it’s so icy-cold outside.  To top things all off, it’s a Saturday. Magnus finds the concept of having to get up and get anywhere early on a Saturday completely repugnant.

But having a five year old changes a lot of things.  Bea has decided she wants to become a figure skater , this winter –– of course, in the spring she was going to be a gymnastics champion, and in the summer a soccer star, so he’s not putting all his eggs in that basket.  But because he loves his daughter, Magnus will keep dutifully getting up early on his precious Saturdays, and ferrying her to the local ice rink for the weekly ‘Little Penguins’ under-7s skating class.

“And last week Adam said I fell over the least I ever have  and he’ll let me go backwards this week if I can do my wiggly skating for twenty whole seconds,” Bea tells him, straining enthusiastically out of her booster seat to peer through the windshield as they approach the ice rink.  One of her long black plaits swings with the motion of the car. “I’m the best in the whole group at that!”

“That’s very exciting, pumpkin,” Magnus tells her, trying to hide his amusement while he looks for a parking space.  Magnus has all the faith in the world in his daughter, but it has to be said, she is not the best skater of the bunch.  She’s probably settled comfortably at the very bottom of the list.  Still, if Bea is happy and confident and enjoying herself, Magnus couldn’t care less that she falls down more often than she manages to let go of the sides of the rink.  It’s not like he has any vested interest in skating.

The ice rink is busy this time of year, getting busier each week; in the depths of the festive season, it makes sense that more people are coming, Magnus figures.  At the start of fall, the ice rink was always quiet, and only a handful of kids came to the club. Now that they’ve reached the clutches of mid-December, snow is falling outside as well as in the rink, and winter coats and woolen scarves have been brought out for casual use anyway, and everyone’s feeling magic of the season -- couples are cosied together everywhere you look, mistletoe hangs from doorways, sparkling lights illuminate everywhere you turn and the nights come so early that the city seems to be in a permanent state of glittering evening.

Magnus hates Christmas, but he’s trying not to think about that.  This is only going to be his second Christmas alone with Bea, but he’s trying not to think about that, either.  

Luckily, the rink is closed down for other customers while the kids’ group is going on, so Magnus doesn’t have to deal with any annoying couples or festive-minded tourists crowding the place up too much much.  Bea is still chattering excitedly, her legs swinging back and forth against Magnus as he carries her in on his hip. One of her mittens is dangling haphazardly out of her sleeve. Magnus fixes it back onto her hand while he waits for the woman at the front desk to swipe their membership card, overly aware that they’re running a few minutes later than usual –– thanks to his morning, which still has a bad mood settling like freshly fallen snow on the landscape of his mind, and which he’s only pushing back for Bea’s sake.

“Enjoy the skate, Little Penguin!” the front desk lady says, leaning towards Bea with a voice a touch too high-pitched and patronising.  Bea only ignores her and looks impatiently towards the doors of the rink.  Just before Magnus can rush off, the woman adds, “Oh, and there’s a new refreshments stall inside for the holiday season, so be sure to get a themed hot chocolate while you’re here!”

She’s clearly been told to upsell that, but ooh, Magnus thinks.  He does have a weak spot for hot chocolate.

It’s several more minutes of getting Bea inside and lacing her skates onto her feet and making sure her coat is buttoned up to her chin before he can unleash her onto the ice, where she immediately stumbles off towards the gaggle of little kids and their cheerful instructors in the middle of the rink.  Magnus watches to make sure she reaches them without falling on her face, and then, once she does, finally lets out the huge sigh that’s been building in him all morning.

Okay.  They’re here.  He’s still groggy from waking up late and his hair still doesn’t look its best, and his finger is still smarting underneath the Barbie plaster Bea had so helpfully applied, but at least Bea’s not missing her club, and he now has at least one hour to get some writing done at one of the shaky picnic benches that the parents sit on while this club happens.  He’s only mildly distracted by looking up every ten seconds to make sure Bea hasn’t crashed into anything and caused herself grievous bodily harm.

There are several loud screams from the kids in the middle of the ice, but they’re screams of excitement, so Magnus doesn’t stress too much about it.  He sits down on the first bench he finds, takes out his notebook, and begins to write.

It’s only ten minutes later that he admits it: the writing isn’t coming.  It’s one of those disjointed days in his mind, when none of the words flow together and none of the ideas are coming in order –– actually, he's irritatingly been feeling like this for weeks now, the new draft of this novel stopping more than it starts. None of it is helped by the grouchy, groggy mood he’s still trying to fight.  He can feel his hair deflating more by the second, and Magnus’s hair is always the best indication of his mental state that day. His jeans crash horribly with the turquoise shirt he’d grabbed in a rush this morning, and he’s only just realising it.  There’s a stain on the lapel of his coat that he can only attribute to a five year old being set loose with a banana. He just doesn’t feel his best, and the writing knows it.

He decides to take a break.  He’s not giving up, he tells himself adamantly, although it probably will end up with him not writing anything else today.  But Bea’s amused for an hour, at least, and getting a break that long outside of school hours is rare for a single dad.

Then he remembers: they’re serving special hot chocolate today.

Magnus loves hot chocolate.  That, he’s sure, will brighten up his mood.

He hadn’t even bothered to glance around the edge of the rink when they arrived, since it never usually changes week to week, but now that he’s remembered that all of a sudden, he looks up.  Sure enough, on the other side of the oval-shaped ice rink, he spots a little booth -- set up to look like a log cabin with Christmas lights draped across the top, although it’s quite clearly fake wood and the illuminated reindeer next to it just makes the whole thing look hideously tacky.  But if they have hot chocolate, he doesn’t care.

Magnus stands up and bundles his things back into his bag, heading around the edge of the rink, his eyes set on that booth.  He glances onto the ice for just a moment, in time to see Bea attempt to skate backwards and immediately take a spectacular tumble onto her bum, but she leaps back up with a bright grin the next second.

“Well done, pumpkin!” he calls across to her, and she waves before throwing herself back into the fray of kids.  As soon as it’s clear that she’s okay, Magnus heads right towards his hot chocolate. He makes it around the tacky novelty reindeer, leans right up against the counter with an eager tap of his fingers, and the employee turns around, and ––

And.   Oh.

Here’s the thing about the man behind the counter: Magnus has seen him before.  Magnus has seen him, actually, so many times in the last month that it nearly feels like fate, if Magnus were still optimistic enough to believe in such things.  

The first time was just at the bodega on the corner of Magnus’s street, at the start of November, when Bea had a stomach bug and Magnus had to run down there in his pyjamas, utterly un-made-up and smelling slightly of vomit, to buy chewable ibuprofen and the only plain crackers that she wanted to eat, and he’d been so harried that he’d bumped right into this guy on his way out of the store, dropping all his groceries -- which had stressed him out, until the guy just said woah, there, in a friendly if slightly breathless voice, and helped him pick it all us.  That day, Magnus had been too stressed to notice how gorgeous he was, but two days later when he saw the same man crossing the street, carrying a bag of groceries for an older woman who might have been his grandmother, his biceps curling pleasingly as he did it, Magnus had been able to think nothing but tall glass of water.   It really had been too long since he got laid, if he was lusting after random strangers on the street.

The guy hadn’t noticed him that time, but it was only another two days until they’d seen each other again, while Magnus was walking Bea to school, and she’d been swinging off his hand and chattering at a mile a minute, before stopping when she realised her dad’s attention had been lost to the guy jogging down the street -- he’d been in unseasonably short shorts, and Magnus did not make a habit of commenting on people’s appearances while his five year old was there, but damn.   The guy’s eyes had lit up with recognition as he jogged past, and he’d given the littlest wave, a gesture of familiarity Magnus wouldn’t have expected from someone he’d just bumped into one time while looking an absolute mess.  Bea had immediately bombarded Magnus with questions about who he was and not been satisfied with Magnus’s dismissals, and that had only increased when they saw him again at the park the same week; he was stretching out his long legs, in running clothes again, while Magnus pushed Bea on the swings.  Magnus got so distracted looking at him that Bea had to call his name five whole times before he remembered to push her again.

Since then, it’s been a barrage of other coincidences.  At the library, while Magnus was picking up some easy reader storybooks for Bea and the man was carrying some sort of thick hardback; standing a couple of people apart in the queue at the same coffee shop; the busy steps of city hall when Magnus had just got done paying a parking ticket and the tall drink of water man had been wearing a smart black suit that made him look even taller and even more drinkable.  Every time, they’ve exchanged familiar smiles or polite waves, but they’ve never actually spoken.

And now, they’re in an ice rink, and it’s definitely not fate, but at least Magnus will be able to talk to him this time.

“Hey,” the guy says, his voice warm and drawling, as he leans curiously across the counter.  They are, at this point, less than a foot apart. His eyes are hypnotisingly multicoloured close up.  “You again.”

“Me again!” Magnus confirms, in a trilling, confident tone that in no way reflects how much of a nervous mess he actually feels in that moment.  “Fancy bumping into you here, of all places.  So, this is where you work?”

‘Hot chocolate vendor at an ice rink’ isn’t the most glamorous job in the world, nor does Magnus imagine it pays more than minimum wage or comes with many perks, but he’s hardly one to judge.  This man manages to pull off the reindeer-themed apron without looking absolutely ridiculous, which is a miracle in itself.

“I guess so.  I mean, just for the winter break.  I’m in law school,” he explains, which makes a lot of sense, and which is also pretty hot.  Magnus has a bit of a thing for academic achievement.

“Oh, really?” He tries to sound only casually interested, the way anyone might politely ask, but he’s aware that he’s still leaning awfully close across the counter.  “I've heard that's stressful. What year?”

“Final year."  His voice is wry as he adds, “Stressful doesn’t begin to cover it.  I was actually just researching for a torts paper while there was a break in the customers, but don’t tell my boss.”  

Magnus glances around him and notices a thick textbook cracked open on a back counter of the little booth.  He can’t help but laugh a little, remembering when he used to do the same while he was working in a Starbucks to put himself through his English degree.

“Well, I won’t keep you for long, then.  I just wanted a hot chocolate.”

“Peppermint candycane, gingerbread, or holiday snickerdoodle with chocolate whip cream?” the man rattles off, sounding like he’s repeated this list so much it’s burned into his very muscle memory to say it.  Magnus blinks.

“Er.  I’m a big fan of all hot chocolate, so I suppose just whichever one you’d recommend.”

“One holiday snickerdoodle with chocolate whipped cream coming up,” he says, punching something into the cash register, and glancing at Magnus’s hand a beat too long as he accepts the money.  As he’s grabbing a tall red cup from the stack beside the drinks machine, he glances back over his shoulder and adds, “Er, I’m Alec, by the way. Just, you know, since we’ve been bumping into each other so often.”

“Magnus,” Magnus replies, trying not to sound quite as breathless as he feels.   Alec is a very nice name, which very much suits this tall, handsome law student in a reindeer apron who is looking at Magnus a touch too intensely from underneath his thick eyelashes.  Magnus really wishes his hair looked better today. He realises suddenly that his hand with the Barbie band-aid is the one he used to pass over the money, and hates himself the smallest bit.  “Nice to formally meet you.”

He wants to say something else, something wittier or maybe just the tiniest bit flirty, just to make sure he still has a touch of his old game, but then –

“ Daaad!” Bea’s piercing voice appears out of nowhere, and she clatters into the boards of the ice rink behind where Magnus is stood, startling him so much he jumps as her little hands reach across the top.  “You gotta get me a hot chocolate too! You promised!” “Beatrice, pumpkin, there’s still forty minutes left of your club.  You can get one at the end,” Magnus promises her.

But Bea has already been distracted.  Staring curiously over the top of the ice rink wall, which she’s only just tall enough to see across, she points right at Alec and says, “ Hey.   Are you that man Daddy was looking at in the park?”

His cheeks aren’t flushing, Magnus tells himself.  He also thinks he should get Bea a hot chocolate just to stop her from talking, before she can bring up any of the other times.  Hoping that maybe Alec didn't hear that, Magnus just hurries towards her, and realises that one of her mittens is hanging off her hand again, and all her hair is escaping from her plaits, and her nose is running.  He fixes her mitten, and wipes her nose on an old tissue he finds in his pocket. Parenthood really isn’t that glamorous. A little more firmly, he then spins her around on the ice and adds, “No hot chocolate until the end.  Go enjoy the rest of your club.”

It’s not until Bea has stumbled her way back across the ice that Magnus finally turns around.  Alec is looking at him, amusement curling his lips, as he adds a final dusting of chocolate powder to Magnus’s drink and slides it across the kiosk.

“Your daughter?” he asks.  Magnus thinks the fact that she’d repeatedly called him dad makes that rather obvious, but nods.  “Yeah, I remember seeing her at the park with you that one time. I didn’t know if she was a niece or a goddaughter or something, though.”

Magnus is a little flattered that Alec had put in enough thought about him to even wonder at who Bea was.  After he’s done feeling flattered over that, he spends a moment feeling a little sad -- he doesn’t know if Alec even likes men, but if he does, clarifying that is probably him taking Magnus off the table as a prospective dating option.  Not that Magnus is thinking about dating. But if he was going to start thinking about it, he’d start with a cute man like this, except no budding law student is going to want to bog themselves down dating an overwhelmed single dad.

So no, romance isn’t on the table here.  But that’s fine. That’s fine, Magnus tells himself.  And it feels almost close to true, that it’s fine, when he takes his hot chocolate and could walk right away, but Alec keeps smiling at him, doesn’t turn immediately back to his textbook and dismiss Magnus as just another customer gone.

Somehow, Magnus ends up staying right where he is, lingering at the counter of the cheesy little fake log cabin as he sips his hot chocolate -- it really is delicious, he tells Alec, thanks him for the recommendation, and Alec smiles like he’s pleased with himself -- and as much as he knows he should be using this one free hour to be productive, he just can’t bring himself to leave.  No other customers come to get a drink, since it’s just a few other parents waiting outside the rink now, and Alec never tries to go back to his book. So Magnus asks Alec about law school, and his torts research, and what exactly torts is, anyway, and Alec explains it all in wry, exasperated terms, and then asks Magnus about his own job and looks far too impressed when Magnus talks about the historical novels he writes, says I can’t write at all but I nearly majored in history at undergrad, I’m so interested in that –– and they manage to talk about 14th century French kings for so long that Magnus doesn’t even notice the time passing, doesn’t notice that his and Alec’s elbows are inching closer and closer to each other across the counter of the hot chocolate stall, doesn’t even notice that the hour is ending and the kids are dispersing on the ice behind them until ––

“HELLO,” says Bea, so loudly it might even be called screaming, as she thumps into the edge of the ice rink.  Her long plaits swing across her shoulders as she climbs through the exit, and does the slow bambi-walk involved with wearing ice skates on a regular floor right the way over to them.  Then, she sticks her hand towards Alec, barely reaching over the counter but still all intense eyebrows and serious posture.  “I’m Beatrice Bane but you can call me Bea if you’re going to be Daddy’s friend. Who are you and can I have a hot chocolate?”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Bea,” Alec says, shaking her tiny hand.  Somehow, his voice has just the right tone for speaking to a five year old -- not patronising or babyish, but still sweet enough to please her.  Magnus’s heart flutters and he furiously stamps it down. “I’m Alexander, but I have a nickname too, so you can call me Alec. You can absolutely have a hot chocolate, so long as your dad says it’s okay.”

They both look to Magnus in unison, twin pairs of enchanting puppy dog eyes.  As if he can say no to that.

“Just a small one,” he says, voice warning, but Bea beams anyway.  She reaches her arms into the air with a silent demand, so Magnus scoops her up, ignoring how she immediately comes to fiddle with his hair once she’s perched on his hip.  Bea’s small for her age at five, skinny and short the way Magnus was most of his childhood ( the way her mom always was, he doesn’t think ) , and still so easy to hold like this.  He’s slightly dreading the day that she’s too big for him to carry.

Alec smiles at them both one last time before he sets about making Bea’s drink; Bea then restlessly makes Magnus put her down again, far sooner than he’d have liked, and spends the whole minute standing on her tip-toes and peering across the counter to watch her hot chocolate being made.  When Alec’s done, he passes the child-sized cup across the counter, and Magnus hands it down to Bea.

When he then scoops a couple bucks out of his pocket, Alec says, “Oh, don’t worry about it, on the house.”

Magnus’s cheeks go pink, and he’s not sure why.  It’s not like Alec really knows him, and Magnus had paid for his own drink; why’s he now trying to give a gift?  Is he attempting to get on Magnus’s good side, or Bea’s?  It’s not like Bea cares whether her dad pays for something or not, so presumably it’s some gesture towards Magnus, and truthfully, any kind act that relates to his daughter is the best way to get Magnus absolutely fluttering inside, but considering he barely knows this man and is sure he’s not interesting in dating him, anyway ––

It’s confusing, that’s all.  But Magnus is spared from replying, from unravelling the confusing emotion in his out-of-practice-with-flirting mind, when Bea suddenly screeches.

“ Daddy,” she says, and flings herself at his side, holding up one tiny index finger with a pout.  “I put my finger in my drink and it was too hot and it burned me.”

“Why did you put your grubby finger in your drink?” Magnus asks, first of all, as he peers down at her hand.  It’s just a little pink and when he touches the edge of her cup he can tell the milk isn’t really hot enough to scald, so he knows not to be too worried.  Sensing that she’s not getting the sympathy she wants, Bea turns to her newest friend, instead.

“ Aleeeec,” she complains across the counter.

“Oh, no,” says Alec, putting on a very serious face with furrowed eyebrows, and he comes out from the edge of his hot chocolate stand just so he can crouch down beside her, his absurdly long legs folding in a very pleasing way.  “Do you need a band-aid? I have some extra special ones in my bag.”

Bea absolutely does not need a band-aid, and Magnus goes to say that, but her face has lit up and she’s enthusiastically nodding before he can get a word in.  And, well, part of him wants to see how this goes. So he hangs back, drinking the dregs of his chocolate, and watches as Alec digs out a sparkly blue band-aid, which he applies to the non-existent burn on Bea’s finger.  He pats it down extra carefully and with all the care of a serious wound, and then says something to Bea, low enough for Magnus to miss, that sends Bea into a fit of giggles. Alec glances around her, a smile on his own face, and meets Magnus’s eyes.

Magnus’s heart thump, thump, thumps.   Tall drink of water who helps old women carry their groceries and jogs in tiny shorts and is an intelligent law student who likes to discuss obscure history is also incredibly sweet with kids.  Because of course he is. Because the universe wants Magnus to be torn up inside, and want things he can’t have.

“You can come to my birthday party!” Bea says then, out of the blue, and so loud it startles both Magnus and Alec out of their little staring contest.  “I’m allowed to invite whoever I want.  You can bring hot chocolate for me as a present!  Give my daddy your phone number so he can tell you when it is.”

Bea’s birthday isn’t until weeks after Christmas, still almost a month from now, and Magnus has barely thought about her party beyond promising her it could be a tea party with, indeed, any of her friends that she liked.  When he said friends, though, he meant other five year olds from her kindergarten class, not cute strangers in reindeer aprons who her dad is confusingly lusting after.

“Um.”  Alec looks amused, from where he’s still crouched down beside Bea, as he turns his gaze up to Magnus.  He’s clearly wondering how to say it would be very weird if I came to your birthday party but thanks in a language five year olds can speak.  “You know, I might be busy that day, but I’ll give your dad my number just in case, and we can see.”

Bea shrugs one of her skinny shoulders, unbothered.  “Alright. It’s not for ages anyway.”

But she keeps watching, so Alec clearly feels obligated to take Magnus’s phone and key his number into it.  “ Sorry, ” Magnus mouths, feeling rather embarrassed that Alec’s having to humour his daughter so much, but Alec somehow doesn't look like he really minds.  He shakes his head, still smiling, and hands Magnus’s phone back over; Magnus reflexively glances down and sees Alec Lightwood as a new contact, a little smiley emoji keyed in afterwards.

It’s probably a fake number, Magnus thinks, just to get Bea off their backs.  But it’s cute he’s humouring her anyway.

He thinks this is probably when they should leave, stop intruding on Alec, but then, just as Bea is sat on the bench taking her skates off and Magnus is still lingering by the hot chocolate stall’s counter, she suddenly, loudly, unmissably announces, “Daddy, Alec, look!  Isn’t that that plant which makes you have to kiss!  Mister toes!”

Mistletoe.   Oh God.   Magnus looks up, and sure enough, some bright soul far more festive than him has tacked a strand of mistletoe onto the fake log-cabin roof above the counter.  Alec is stood just on one side of it. Magnus is stood just on the other.

Bea’s face is absolutely delighted.

“Oh, no,” Magnus tries to deflect, taking a step back.  “It’s fine, honey, that rule is only for people who want to kiss.  You don’t ever have to kiss somebody just because you’re under mistletoe.”

But this backfires on him.  Bea frowns, looks at Alec, and says, “Don’t you want to kiss my daddy?”  Magnus, mortified, doesn't dare glance around at Alec –– it can’t get much worse than his five year old trying to pressure a guy into kissing him, like it’s not clear enough already that Magnus has zero game.  “Alec, why don’t you want to kiss him? Don’t you like daddy? We can’t be friends if you don’t.”

Groaning, Magnus resists the urge to drop his head into his hands and spins around to look at Alec again.  By some miracle, he realises that Alec isn’t looking like he wants to sink into the floor, or run away screaming -– if anything, he seems rather amused.

“No, your dad seems lovely,” he tells Bea, and then beckons towards Magnus.  “You’re right, we should follow the rules.” And then, in a lower and far more humorous voice, where only Magnus can hear, “Don’t worry, I’ve kissed guys for far worse reasons than this.”

Magnus is sure he’s blushing to the point of ridiculousness and wishes he’d thought to wear foundation that day instead of just his usual eye makeup, but there’s nothing to be done about it now, except freeze on the spot and feel restless and tingly all over and hold his breath as Alec leans in, in, in ––

And plants a tiny, chaste kiss on Magnus’s cheek.

“There,” Alec says, pulling back and immediately raising an eyebrow across at Bea.  “Are we still friends, now?”

“Yep,” Bea decides.  She’s kicked both her skates off and pulled her shoes most of the way on, and for once, her meddling little mind does seem to be satisfied with their actions.  Thank god.

With that, though, Magnus decides it’s definitely time to go, before she can make Alec do anything else he doesn't want to.  And quite apart from that, the Little Penguins hour is definitely up, and crowds of regular patrons are starting to file into the ice rink -- exactly what Magnus wanted to avoid today -- and there’s suddenly other people queuing up at the hot chocolate stall, too.  His cheek is still tingling in the spot where Alec’s lips had touched, but Magnus is choosing not to think about that so that he can maintain his sanity, and he scoops Bea up onto his hip without another moment’s thought.

“Well,” he says, just as the customer waiting for Alec to serve them begins looking impatient, and Alec ducks back into his little hot chocolate stall.  “It was nice to properly meet you, Alexander.”

“You, too,” Alec says, smiling in a way that reaches his eyes, just as warm and lovely as the hot chocolate he's making, but twice as satisfying.  Magnus finally steps back, dodges the tacky neon reindeer, and lets his legs carry him and Bea away. They have a rest of their day to be getting on with, and Alec has a job to do; they’ve distracted him far long enough.

Still, as Magnus walks away, he can’t help glancing back just once or twice.  And when he’s strapped Bea into the car outside and thrown their bags in the back, just before he slides into his own seat, he lets his fingers drift up to his cheek, pressing the warm spot where Alec’s lips had touched.  Chaste as it was, that was the closest Magnus has come to a proper kiss, one not from Bea or Catarina, since Bea’s mom –– over two years past. It’s a boundary he’s been nearly terrified to cross.

Now that he's crossed it, he’s finding that it wasn’t, actually, so bad.  He’s actually finding that, now it’s happened, he can’t stop thinking about it.

Later that night, when Bea is engrossed in a colouring book and Magnus has a quiet minute while dinner cooks, he finds himself getting out his phone.  It’s just to see, he tells himself –– he’s not hanging any hopes on this, not at all.  With his experience of romance in general he can definitely say his expectations are through the floor.

But, to Alec’s number, he sends, Hi :) This is Magnus, from the ice rink! Sorry about Bea, today, she’s a cutie but we’re still working on the social skills. I’ll definitely let you off the hook of coming to her birthday party, but it was nice to properly meet you, anyway!

There, he thinks, that’s pleasant enough.  It’s not quite flirty, but it’s not quite distant, either.  And it won’t matter in the end, because he's sure Alec gave him a fake number.  Magnus goes back to chopping up vegetables for the pasta sauce, writing the whole thing out of his mind.

Except, in the end, it isn’t a fake number at all.  It’s only two minutes until his phone lights up with a reply that sets Magnus’s cheeks flushing, his heart thumping –– and, maybe, just a little bit of the festive spirit encroaching on his fractured heart.

He just can't quite believe that he has hot chocolate, his meddling daughter, and a man in a ridiculous reindeer apron to thank.

[ms-rampage]

Eden's Gate: Kidnapped Chapter 12 - Breaking In

word count: 2,482

warnings: some swearing, some angst,

some cuteness between Kate and Wheaty.

I'm lowkey shipping Kate and Wheaty!!!!!!!

5 days have passed, and still no sign of Paige’s family breaking into Jacob’s stronghold, and saving her redheaded hunter ass from the elder Seed bro’s redheaded ass. I just wanted to put some comedy relief into this for once. Anyway, Paige has learned from Ryan that Jacob goes by a schedule, and everyday he wakes up at 6am sharp, he goes over to his route with training his soldiers, doing paperwork, putting in orders, and torturing innocent people with classical conditioning. 

Between 8am and 10am that's when he goes to the cages, and taunts the elder Winchester sister. For the past few weeks Paige and Ryan have been keeping track on his schedule, luckily Ryan has a watch, and that makes everything easier for them. Everyday for the past 5 days, and even before that, between 12 and 1:30pm when the soldiers feed the prisoners the half cooked shitty raw meat, they also dump out dead rotten bodies of the innocent people Jacob as killed via his classical conditioning, and his trials. 

Paige and Ryan lay awake in their cages, Ryan looking down at his watch reading 5:52am.

“It's almost time for Jacob to get up” he whispers to Paige.

She nods her head, and says “So today is the day we bust out of here”.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna jinx anything but hopefully they go by the everyday schedule” he says worried.

Paige looks over at him with a somewhat mad look, while he looks down at his watch.

Kate still can’t believe it, it's been a few days and she still hasn’t told anyone, not even Kenny.

She never thought she would even see her again.

Her mother Mandy Winchester, she’s alive and well.

She hasn’t seen or heard from her mom in almost 8 years.

She lost custody of her and Paige when they were 13 and 16 years old. 

When they were attending school in Iowa, one of Kate’s teachers saw cuts, bruises and scrapes on her arms, and that was enough for the teacher to call Child Protective Services on them, and let's just say it didn’t end well for that teacher. 

But where in the Whitetails is she living? It's a huge region, nothing but mountains and forests.

She waits until everyone else gets up, because it's too early and she’ll never hear the end of it. 

Plus she’s known her mom was alive for a few days, and she never told anyone. 

“Maybe I should go out, and find her” she thinks to herself.

She decides to go look for her mother. 

She gets up out of bed, goes to her computer and looks up the saved location of her mother’s whereabouts.

It looks like she was near the wolves den? 

“Is she working with the Whitetail militia?” she thinks to herself again. 

She goes into the cameras, and checks. She sees her mom talking to Eli? Maybe? From what it looks like. 

Eli was helping us search for Paige, and does he know that Mandy is Kate and Paige’s mom?

She gets dressed, and quietly leaves the house trying not to wake up the others.

She gets into her car, and leaves to the Whitetail Mountains.

Ryan and Paige keep a close eye on Jacob’s schedule, he just stepped out of the facility, and now he’s giving orders to his men. He goes back inside the facility. 

“Okay if all this goes as planned, we should be able to get out by 2pm” he says softly.

She nods, and says “Okay, okay, good”.

“So for now, we just go by their schedule, and wait”.

Realization hits Paige like a train, she turns back to Ryan and says

“Okay but how do we get out of our cages”.

“Fuck” he mumbles under his breath.

“That’s one of the important parts. Getting out of the fucking cages is a very important part” she whispers to him, trying not to let any of the guards hear her. 

“I’ll figure something out” he whispers back. “God I’m so fucking stupid” he mutters to himself.

Paige looks around her cage, trying to find any opening, anything that’ll aid them out of this shithole. 

Kate is half ways to the wolves den. When she finally arrives, she climbs up the grassy like mountain, and sees that the bunker door is open.

As she gets closer she hears voices coming from the inside, and one of them is definitely a female, and the other two are male most likely Eli and Wheaty.

She slowly walks down the stairs trying not to alert them.

“Hello? Eli?” she says in a calming but somewhat stern voice.

She makes it down the stairs, her and Wheaty almost collide with each other.

“Hey Kate” he says in a “trying to sound nervous” voice.

“Hey Wheaty” she says back. She steps further into the bunker, and sees Eli, and Tammy. 

Bummed because she really thought she heard her mom’s voice moments ago, and she saw her on one of Jacob’s cameras an hour earlier.

“Hey Kate, do you need anything?” Eli asks with a concerned look on his face. 

She awkwardly scratches the back of her head, and says “Umm, this is gonna sound weird but umm. I was able to hack into Jacob’s cameras that he has set up around the region, and while flipping through the cameras. I uhh” she stumbles on the last part.

“You didn’t see anything off putting right?? Wheaty asks, somewhat embarrassed. 

Tammy and Eli look at him with disgusted looks on their faces. 

Kate just looks at him confused, shaking her head “no”. 

“What did you see?” Tammy asks, turning back to Kate

“I saw something. Well someone who looked familiar, and I haven’t seen in years”

As she’s talking to them, Mandy walks back into the room looking down at her phone.

“Hey guys, so are we-” she gets cuts off. 

“Mom!!!” Kate exclaims, causing Eli and Wheaty to jump. 

Mandy looks up, and she drops her phone in a dramatic form.

Tears start to form in Kate’s eyes.

“Katella?” Mandy says softly, getting choked up. 

Kate slowly runs into her mother's arms, both of them crying ugly.

Tammy, Eli and Wheaty leave the room to give them some space. 

They pull away after a few minutes.

“Where have you been?” Kate asks, with a raspy voice. 

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business. Looking for the demon who killed your father” she whispers the last part.

“Why didn’t you visit us when we were in Jackson?” she asks.

“Legally I wasn’t allowed to, and also I had too many people on my ass. I didn’t want you or your sister getting hurt”. 

They both look down at the floor, before she asks.

“Where is your sister?” 

Paige, Ryan and all the other prisoners sitting in their cages, listening to Jacob ramble on. Mainly Jacob’s attention is on Paige, like always, it's always on Paige and no one else.

She’s waiting for him to pull out that damn music box, and have her kill people again. 

He continues his speech to the prisoners. 

“You see this whole thing. 

It's gonna show you where you stand in this world.

You'll know your purpose, it's either dead or with the Project”

He continues but he looks over at Paige while saying this.

“You will say where you stand. You will decide who lives, and who dies.

It’s your choice. You decide. The blood is on your hands”

She stares at him with intense eyes. 

He slowly stands up, and reaches into his jacket pocket.

Paige and Ryan quickly exchange glances, realizing their plan to escape is ruined.

They turn their heads forward, she hears Jacob turn the handle of the music box, she closes her eyes, mentally and physically prepares herself for the painful headache, and the thought that she might kill her new friend in the trials. That was her only way out. 

“Only Yooooouuuuu”

Looking down at the floor, trying to figure out how to tell her mom that Paige was taken by the Cult.

“Katella, where’s Paige?” she asks

“She’s uhh” she stumbles over her words when Eli steps in and says

“She was kidnapped by the Cult, and she’s being held by Jacob Seed”

Mandy looks at him in shock, shaking her head.

“No, no, no, no” she says, panicking.

“Mom?” Kate asks worried. 

“That bastard has Paige” she says, almost hyperventilating. 

She drops to the floor, her hands on her head, and feeling the urge to vomit.

Her mood instantly changes from panic to anger. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill that asshole” she says furiously. 

Kate helps her up, and sits on the arm of the couch.

Kate’s phone rings. “I’ll be back” she says.

Stepping out of the room, she answers her phone. 

“Hey” she says.

“Kate where are you??” Kenny asks from the other end. 

“I had to go do something” she answers.

It's like a lightbulb went off in Kenny’s head.

“You better not be at St. Francis by yourself!!” he raises his voice. 

“I’m not, I’m not okay. I just had to go find someone. It's very personal” she says. 

“Personal? What do you mean personal?” he asks, getting annoyed. 

She can hear the annoyance growing in his voice, and she somewhat snaps at him.

“Did you have a stroke? Personal as in my own grown up personal I don’t know crap”

If she could see through her phone she’s pretty sure Kenny looks offended but she’s too happy to see her mother to give a fuck, and she hangs up her phone. She sighs, and turns around. 

Not realizing Wheaty walked in, standing 5 feet behind her, and overheard her end of the conversation.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, concerned.

She nods her head “Yeah that was just my brother in law. He thought I was at St. Francis by myself”. She sits down on a table.

He nods, and sits next to her. 

”Are you planning on going to St. Francis to get your sister?” he asks. 

“Yeah me, Kenny and a few others were gonna break in. Through a tunnel that runs underneath the Veteran’s Centre” she replies. 

She can feel the awkwardness between her and Wheaty. She knows he likes her but she is terrible when it comes to reading those types of signs.

She clears her throat, and says “We were, uhh, supposed to go later today, maybe tomorrow. But after getting my mom back, I’m sure she should want to meet them first. Or maybe I can surprise them with Paige and my mom” she says, trying to keep her breathing steady.

He puts his hand over hers, and says “I think you should surprise them with her”. 

She nods her head, and says. 

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that. Kenny is gonna… he’s gonna be so happy when he sees her”

As she’s talking, Wheaty just stares at her in admiration, not hearing a single word she says. 

“But I’m sure, 100% he’s gonna want to rip his head off” she finishes. 

He snaps out of his trance, and says “Yeah, yeah absolutely”. 

She smiles at him, and looks down at their hands. His hand is still on top of hers.

He quickly moves it, somewhat embarrassed, she gets up from the table and says.

“I’m gonna go check on my mom”, 

Before she leaves the room, she turns to Wheaty and says.

“And Wheaty?”

He looks up at her.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me” she says with a smile, and she leaves the room.

She goes back to her mom.

Her, Tammy and Eli are going over a plan. “What’s this?” she asks. 

“We’re getting Paige back” Mandy says.

“When? Right now?” she asks. 

“Yes” she responds.

She stands next to her mom, and looks at the map of the Veteran’s Centre.

“So if we get a bunch of our men, the Resistance, and the Cougars. That’ll be enough to bring Jacob’s army” Eli says. 

“Okay we have everything ready right?” Mandy asks. 

“Yeah, we have the guns, ammo, throwables, and explosives enough for everyone” Wheaty answers. 

“Okay, good” Mandy responds.

“How are you guys getting in?” Kate asks.

“Through the front gate of course” Tammy answers.

“You guys are gonna go in, and get detected?” she asks

“That's our only way in” Eli says. 

“Actually Kate told me there’s a tunnel that runs underneath the VC” Wheaty says.

Eli, and Tammy look over at her. 

“Really?” he asks.

She nods her head, “Yeah it starts 1.5 miles away from the Centre, starting from the Northeast”

“But if she’s outside in the cages it's better to go through the front gate” Tammy says.

Kate agrees it’ll be easier to get Paige, and get the fuck out of there. 

They go over the plan again, and then they leave for the Veteran’s centre.

Guns, ammo and everything else all set, and ready to go. 

Kate texts Kenny saying “I’ll be home in a bit”, and sends it. 

Thinking that’ll be her final words to him. She doesn’t know if she’ll come out of this alive.

Her, Mandy, Eli and Wheaty leave in one of the militia’s trucks.

Eli driving, Mandy in the passenger, Kate and Wheaty in the backseats.

He can tell Kate is tense about all this.

He places his hand over hers, hoping it”ll calm her down. 

It helps a little.

4 other militia trucks follow behind, and a few planes above them. 

Paige goes through the trials once again, and wakes up her cage.

She shoots up and looks over at the next cage. 

She is relieved to see Ryan is still alive.

She hears Jacob’s chuckle next to her. She turns her head, staring at him angrily.

He says. 

“You’re little friend there took one Hell of a beating. I’m surprised he held on that long. He won’t next time though”.

She hears planes flying in the distance, and they shoot at the front gate of the Veteran’s centre. 

Jacob quickly gets up, and runs inside the facility.

The sound of machine guns and explosives make her ears ring. 

One explosive goes off in front of her cage. Luckily she didn’t sustain any injuries,

“What’s the fuck going on!?!?!” Ryan yells out.

Paige can’t even hear anything, her vision is all fucked up, smoke clouds are all over the place. Gun fire, dead bodies of peggies everywhere. She sees a truck pull up in front of her cage, and sees someone break the lock and does the same to the other cages.

Her vision still blurry, she couldn't recognize the face of her little sister.

“Paige!! Paige!!!!” she yells. Her vision goes clear, and tears immediately form in her eyes.

“Kate!?!?!?!” she yells over the sound of gun fire, and people yelling.   

[momo-de-avis]

Do you have any tips on how to start writing? I'm really bad at expressing my thoughts well so I figure if I write like, a diary or something I may get better at talking,

A diary is actually a good thing! A great thing, actually. Because it allows you to practice for yourself only. It’s one of those little writing corners where you can just be yourself, unlimited, boundless, as you wish, and no one will criticize you. If you allow your thoughts to just pour onto the paper, even if only a paragraph per day, I guarantee you will grow. It’s important for writers to keep practising, and it’s common advice to just tell WRITE EVERY DAY, which isn’t so helpful as people make it seem. Most of the time, people use this to mean like, write a story, a short story, participate in NaNoWriMo (if you’re like me and don’t like to set up goals like Nano does in fear of disappointing yourself or are just plain bad with deadlines, Nano is a terrible idea). But actually, a diary does wonders. It’s the perfect way of practising, and it goes both ways---you vent and you practice. It’s for you alone.

First of all: don’t be too demanding on yourself. Whether it’s word/page count, deadlines or quality of what you’re creating, it’s important to keep in mind that you’re just starting and, even if you aren’t, it’s a first draft. First drafts are supposed to be just that---the very first time you write down your idea. It’s supposed to be a rough diamond that will be shaped later on into whatever you want it to be. For some people, that means write it once and then rewrite it entirely (I’m those people), for others it just means it’s got a main body, and then you just work what you have. It really depends. People have different methods, so no matter how much others tell you to do this way or that way, it’s your way that matters. 

Keep exploring your possibilities so you’ll find your work method. Listen to other’s people’s advice only to the limit of your abilities. If you try out a method and you can feel it in your bones right off the bad it just doesn’t work for you, quit it. It’s no good forcing something you’re not on par with. Just scratch that altogether. Methods, discipline, plotting---that varies from person to person and I detest when others say there is a right or wrong way to do things. There isn’t.

As for plotting, there are several ways to go about it---but take this with a grain of salt. I never followed a single method until I found out there are names for this shit. What I do is called a zero draft, or the Direct Writing Process. Word vomit onto paper, in other words. I have an idea, I think about it for a while and just pour it out. I personally work very well with freewriting and improvisation. I am a pantser---that means I don’t plot, I just define my characters, my conflict, my goal, some plot points and go on instinct. Most of the times, other plot points emerge as I write. They just pop up in the process. Other people can be plotters: they plot the whole thing down to the detail. Those are more likely to use methods like the snowflake method, or the 3 Act Method (I personally hate the 3 Act method. I think it’s super limited and most stories these day’s don’t necessarily follow a 3 act structure, but a structuralized (around 5 acts, if you will) plot that has inciting incident (the thing that sets the story off), plot points (the things that push the plot forward), plot twist (NOT necessary in a story, and I hate that we’re in a day and age that’s convinced people that a story MUST have a plot twist---it really doesn’t. Sometimes being predictable is good), and a conclusion. The 3 Act thing is mostly used in cinema, from what I learned).

(Keep in mind there are other methods, these are just the ones whose names I remember)

Pick up books within the genre you’d like to explore and read a lot. Now, I know, this is that sort of shit people just love telling new writers as the number one advice, but I think what lacks is telling people ways of how to read when you’re a writer. So here is how I do it:

I mark pages that have passages that I want to go back to, underline sentences that inspired me and make mental notes of literary devices and word combos that are new and useful to me. The reason why it’s so important to read a lot when you want to write is to submerge yourself in the millions of styles out there in order to find your voice. Re-read passages that make you go ‘shit, that was really good!’ and let yourself be submerged by it. Disconnect from the world if you have to. Re-read the books that have inspired you. When you finish a book you loved, ask yourself why you loved it---take notes, even. Just write down the things you enjoyed, make little essays for yourself. It’s not just that reading a lot helps when you want to write, you gotta THINK about what you read. For youself (USE YOUR DIARY :D).

And on that account, and I am dead serious here, read bad shit. I mean it. Read the worst possible book you can find. You’re going to read a lot of advice saying ‘you shouldn’t do this when you write’, and I’ll tell you right off the bat that I HATE ‘should-and-shouldn’t-dos’ advice for writers. You’ll read that fragmented sentences and heavy thick paragraphs are a bad thing because it wears out the reader, then you pick up Donna Tartt and realize she does that A LOT. So why does she get away with it? Because she’s good at it. The advice should always be ‘do it well’, not ‘don’t do it at all’ (generally speaking, do not trust someone who tells you there are other rules to writing besides grammatical).

But the bad books? Bruh they’re a perfect guide to How Not To Do Things because, contrary to Mister White Male Pulitzer spreading advice on Literary Hub, those books actually show you why it doesn’t work. And by showing you how it doesn’t work, you get an idea of ONE WAY it shouldn’t be done. So while Donna Tartt is great at heavy, thick paragraphs, you pick up fucking Eragon and get the gist of just one way it won’t work: when it forces you to pick up a thesaurus and basically search for every other word in there.

Then, of course, practice. By practicing, I mean---do whatever the crap you want. I cannot express enough how much I want every knew writer out there to cover their ears and go BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH every time someone tries to tell them what they should and shouldn’t do, because when you’re starting, it’s REALLY IMPORTANT that you just go out of boundaries as best as you can. You learn from your mistakes. But you gotta know why they’re mistakes. No one learns a damn thing by being told ‘this is bad’. You gotta see it for yourself. You gotta feel it. You gotta experiment. Because it might just happen that one day, it won’t be bad. And that will mean you will have found a way of reverted a rule---and that in itself means you’re finding your own voice.

So keep experimenting. I’m serious. Don’t be afraid of trying out. Never wrote Sci-fi? Fuck it. Try it out even without reading a book---it’s for yourself, get into the mood and do what you please. Never tried poetry? Go ahead. Be wacky about it. Make it visual, fuck rhyming and do what you please. Want to write a thing that’s historical but haven’t researched that bit of history? Experiment all the same. Go back and forth between your reading and your writing (one thing I do a lot is put the book I’m reading down for a second to go write something because I got so inspired by what I’m reading. If that happens to you, my advice is---bruh let it out. Don’t tame it. Don’t put a lid on it. FLOURISH).

There’s one thing I like telling people: there is no such thing as a bad idea, there are only ideas that need working.

I repeat: no such thing as a bad idea.

You really wanna write something that just came up to you but you’re thinking ‘I’m afraid this is too cliché’? Fuck that. For the love of God, AVOID thinking about the word cliché at all times. Clichés aren’t bad, they’re only bad when they aren’t worked properly. And there’s a reason they exist---people like them. So, let’s swipe that away right now and focus on what’s important: you have an idea, and you want to work it. But something feels off. That just means you need to rethink some concepts, NOT that the idea itself is bad.

Keep in mind that, sometimes, a story takes time to mature. It might mean you’re too young to write it (the one I have on wattpad that’s a first draft btw, Best of Times, I had the idea at 18, but it’s very political and I was Clueless (TM), I had to wait until I matured). Be patient and kind to yourself---you need time, and with you, so does your story. Don’t force anything out, cause a lemon can only squeeze so much juice. Leave a WIP unfinished if you have to, and jump to another one to clear your head---there is absolutely no problem with that (boy do I do that).

With that in mind: Sometimes, walking away from a WIP is a good thing.

Now, as for expressing yourself: as I mentioned above, reading a lot might help. But here’s the thing. Expressing yourself doesn’t come from reading and understanding literature, it comes from yourself. Read a lot and take notes, pay attention to literary devices, ESPECIALLY pay attention to how certain writers break rules. But then, work yourself out.

See, bruh. Work your vision. Look at the world around you. You know how they say a musician is good when they develop good earing? A writer is good when they learn how to see, to see into the world around them in their own way. Listen to the people around you, enjoy the little things in life, observe life’s intervals. Actually, on this aspect let me recommend a book: Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli. It’s a YA I think, very small and it was the one book I read when I was 13 that changed my life. It’s also a life-lesson for writers on the matter of ‘how to make the cliché absolutely beautiful’ and ‘how to grab a plot that’s been overdone and make it special’. Here is a synopsis. 

So, all in all, I would say: read, experiment, see and practice. Search for your inner voice. Don’t EVER throw away an idea.

HAPPY WRITINGS, ANON